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 LETTERS OF 
 GEORGE MEREDITH
 
 »'

 
 LETTERS OF 
 GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 COLLECTED AND EDITED BY 
 
 HIS SON 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES 
 
 VOL. I 
 
 1844-1881 
 
 SECOND EDITION 
 
 LONDON 
 CONSTABLE AND COMPANY LTD 
 
 1912
 
 Edinburgh T. an<l A. Cokstablb. Printers to His Majesty
 
 PR 
 
 5013 
 
 A3 
 
 V.l 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 TnE Letters of George Meredith here brought together 
 have baen printed first and foremost for his friends, and 
 this fact must explain whatsoever may appear illogical, 
 superfluous, and maybe obscure in this book. The 
 collection is not meant to form a narrative of his life, 
 nor indeed does it profess to be complete. Many of his 
 intimate friends, and a large number of his letters to 
 them, do not for various reasons appear at all here. 
 Very few letters, for instance, of the many written 
 to Cotter Mori son are available, the majority having 
 been most unfortunately destroyed. Those written to 
 Lionel Robinson, to Stephen Hamilton, and to Maurice 
 Fitzgerald, if any indeed exist, are inaccessible, and few 
 letters to Arthur Cecil Blunt and many others can be 
 found. To the friends of his later years his letters 
 were always rare : thus none appear to Lord Haldane, 
 though a frequent visitor to Flint Cottage, and hardly 
 any exist to John Deverell, a friend of long standing 
 and one of his executors, or to Colonel and Mrs. Lewin. 
 Many a close friendship indeed does not appear at 
 all in these volumes, and I wish for this reason to 
 note here one or two among them. My father's 
 obligations, for instance, to Miss Louisa and Miss Mary 
 Lawrence were very great : their home in Whitehall
 
 vi LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 Place, the rendezvous of many people eminent in litera- 
 ture and science, was always open to him. The same 
 is true in regard to IVIrs. Drummond of Fredley, JMr. 
 and Mrs. Frederick Jameson, and Mr. and INIrs. H. G. 
 Plimmer, at whose house many of his happiest later 
 days were spent. Very gratefully to be remembered 
 are Mrs. Christopher Wilson and Sir Trevor and Lady 
 Lawrence. 
 
 I have further to express my sincere thanks to all 
 those who have so readily placed at my disposition 
 the bulk of the letters printed in these volumes. To 
 my friends J. M. Barrie, Thomas Seccombe, and 
 Edward Hutton I am indebted for much advice and 
 assistance. 
 
 W. M. M. 
 
 1912.
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 GEORGE MEREDITH AT THE AGE OF THREE YEARS 
 
 Froiitisjjiece^ Vol. I. 
 
 GEORGE MEREDITH AND HIS SON ARTHUR . To face page 79 
 
 ARTHUR G. MEREDITH, BY DANTE GABRIEL 
 
 ROSSETTI . . . . . „ „ 136 
 
 GEORGE MEREDITH AT THE AGE OF EIGHTY 
 
 Front isj/iece, Vol. II.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORaE MEREDITH 
 
 The first ancestor of George Meredith of whom we have 
 any record, his great-grandfather John Meredith, was hving 
 in Portsea in the middle of the eighteenth century, and there 
 in the parish church, his son Melchizedek (or Melchisedec, the 
 name is variously spelt) was baptized in June 1763. 
 
 Melchizedek Meredith early in life became a tailor and 
 naval outfitter, his shop being at No. 73 High Street, Ports- 
 mouth. He was a remarkable and a very handsome man, 
 and his business soon became the leading one of its kind 
 in the great naval port.^ But his ambitions were not limited 
 to his shop : he was on friendly terms with many of his cus- 
 tomers, who probably included all the famous sailors of that 
 great period, and was a welcome guest in some of the best 
 houses of the neighbourhood. While still quite a young 
 man he had married a woman as remarkable, it would seem, 
 as himself : her name, her Christian name, for we are at 
 present ignorant of her family, which belonged to the pro- 
 fessional class, was Anne ; she was ten years older than her 
 husband, but like him tall and very handsome. They were, 
 in fact, a notable couple. In ' The Great Mel ' and Mrs. Mel 
 of Evan Harrington we have their portraits, the only literal 
 family portraits, let it be noted, in the book. 
 
 Melchizedek Meredith, whose fine presence and manners 
 won him universal popularity, especially with women, was 
 used to take his pleasures abroad, it would appear, to the 
 
 1 It is referred to by Captain Marryat in Peter Simple, vol. ii. 
 chap. vi. : ' We called at Meredith's the Tailor, and he promised that 
 by the next morning we should be fitted complete.' 
 
 VOL. I. — A
 
 2 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 neglect of his business and his family, especially in his later 
 years. He kept horses and hunted, was a member of a local 
 Freemasons' lodge, and joined the Portsmouth Yeomanry 
 in the capacity of an ofificer at the time of the threatened 
 invasion of Napoleon. In 1801, and again in 1803-4, he was 
 a churchwarden of his parish church of St. Thomas, to which 
 in the latter year he and his fellow-warden presented a set of 
 silver plate. 
 
 In 1814 Melchizedek died, leaving behind him a large family, 
 of which those who chiefly interest us are : his eldest son 
 Augustus, who succeeded him in the business, and four 
 daughters — all beautiful girls — Anne Eliza, who in 1809 
 married Thomas Burbey, a Portsmouth banker ; Louisa, who 
 in 1811 married John Read, Consul-General for the Azores, 
 later a knight of the Portuguese Order of the Tower and 
 Sword ; Harriet, who in the same year married John Hellyer, a 
 brewer ; and Catherine Matilda, who in 1819 married Samuel 
 Burdon ElliS; then a lieutenant in the Royal Marines, and 
 who later became General and Knight Commander of the 
 Order of the Bath. 
 
 Augustus Armstrong Meredith was born in 1797 and 
 christened Gustavo Urmston, which was later changed, and 
 the change is noted in the register, to Augustus Armstrong. 
 He seems to have been somewhat wild and extravagant and, 
 though he had business ability, to have spent money faster 
 than he made it. He married about 1824 Jane (EHza) 
 Macnamara, daughter of Michael Macnamara of The Point, 
 Portsmouth. The only child of this marriage was George 
 Meredith, born February 12, 1828, at 73 High Street, 
 Portsmouth, and baptized on April 9th in the church of 
 St. Thomas, seven months before the death of his grand- 
 mother. 
 
 Mrs. Augustus Meredith died when her son was five years 
 old ; and the business having apparently gone to pieces after 
 the death of Mrs. Mel, Augustus, at some time after 1837, 
 migrated to London, where, however, he was no more 
 successful than he had been in Portsmouth, and later 
 proceeded to the Cape, whence he returned to spend the
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 3 
 
 last ten years or so of his life in Southsea, where he died 
 in 1876. 
 
 The young George Meredith, on his father's departure for 
 London, remained in Portsmouth, where he went to school. 
 His mother's small fortune was left in the hands of trustees 
 for him. Later he became a ward in Chancery, the trust- 
 money having, for the most part, disappeared. His chief 
 recollection of this time seems to have been the three dreary 
 church services he attended on Sunday, when, during the 
 sermon, he would invent tales in the manner of St. George 
 and the Dragon, or of the kind found in the Arabian Nights, 
 of which he was very fond, and which came to such fruition 
 later in the Shaving of Shagpat. At the school in Ports- 
 mouth he learned, he said, little or nothing, and it was not 
 till at the age of fourteen he was sent to Neuwied that his 
 education, at any rate his literary education, may be said 
 to have begun. 
 
 The Moravian school at Neuwied, on the Rhine, near 
 Cologne, was founded in 1756. In the first jSfty years of its 
 existence its pupils for the most part came from Switzerland. 
 Later many German boys entered the school, but the years 
 from 1831 to 1842 are known in the school as the English 
 period, nearly a hundred and fifty English boys being sent 
 to the school in that decade. Among them was George 
 Meredith, who entered the school on August 18, 1842. He 
 remained there without returning home for two years, and 
 from this time we may date his first and most vivid and 
 lasting impressions of the Rhine, which bore fruit later in 
 Farina. The religious influence of the place upon his young 
 mind would seem to have been, as indeed he confessed, 
 profound, to which the following letter bears witness. 
 
 A * Leaving Letter ' written to a Schoolfellow 
 
 To R. M. Hill. 
 
 Neuwied, July 8, 1844. 
 
 My dear Hill, — During the time that we Ve lived 
 together, one feeling, whether in union, or shall I say
 
 4 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 enmity, no that is too harsh, has agitated our respective 
 bosoms. It is fellowship. may God grant that all 
 may have the same feeling towards you to make your 
 life happy. But true fellowship is not to be liad without 
 Christianity ; not the name but the practice of it. I wish 
 you the greatest of all things ' God's blessing,' which 
 comprehends all I would or could otherwise say. — Yours, 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 It was at the age of sixteen, upon January 7, 1844, that 
 Meredith left school, returned to London, and in due course 
 was articled to Mr. R. S. Charnock, F.S.A., a solicitor with 
 chambers at 10 Godliman Street, E.G. For the law he had 
 no taste, his income was very small and irregular, and he 
 frequently lived at this time on a single bowl of porridge a 
 day ; reading widely in the classics, and giving himself to 
 the study of German literature. Long walks through the 
 market gardens of Chelsea into Surrey and Middlesex were 
 his recreation. To Literature as a career he turned naturally, 
 seeing in it the means for the expression of his love of nature, 
 his philosophy of life, and perhaps — though this weighed 
 least with him — a source of livelihood. Charnock was not 
 only an antiquary, he was also a man of literary tastes and 
 gifts, and his circle of friends included many of the young 
 writers and artists of the time. Largely under his auspices 
 there was started, by a little literary coterie about the year 
 1848, a MS. magazine named the Monthly Observer, to which 
 articles and drawings were contributed. Each member of 
 the society interested in it took his or her turn as editor, and 
 each number was circulated among the members for criticism. 
 Among the contributors to this magazine were Austin Daniel, 
 Hilaire de Ste. Croix, R. G. Snell, R. S. Charnock, Edward 
 Peacock, and his sister Mrs. Nicolls, son and daughter of 
 Thomas Love Peacock. It was in the Monthly Observer that 
 George Meredith's first published poem ' Chillianwallah ' 
 appeared in manuscript in 1849, and in the same year was 
 printed in Chambers' a Journal (July 7).
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 5 
 
 At Edward Peacock's rooms in London George Meredith 
 was a frequent visitor, and it was as his guest that he first 
 met Peacock's sister, Mrs. Mary Ellen Nicolls, widow of 
 Lieutenant Edward Nicolls, who commanded H.M.S. Dwarf 
 and was lost at sea with his ship. Mrs. Nicolls was a woman 
 of considerable beauty, great intelligence, some literary 
 achievement, and brilliant and irrepressible wit. She had 
 one child, Edith. George Meredith when he first met her 
 was but twenty-one years of age ; he was very poor, he had 
 finally cut himself adrift from the law, and it is doubtful 
 whether he had kept in touch with his family ; certainly he 
 did not look to them for assistance. On August 9, 1849, 
 Meredith and Mrs. Nicolls were married. 
 
 The next few years were spent chiefly on the Continent 
 at the expense of a small legacy from a Portsmouth relative. 
 On his return to England, journalism, poetry, the SJiaving of 
 Shagpat and the planning of Richard Fever el occupied his time. 
 He and his wife had no settled home. For some time they 
 boarded at The Limes, Weybridge, the house of Mrs. Macirone, 
 a woman of considerable culture. There they met Frith the 
 artist, who was also boarding there, and there Meredith made 
 many of his early literary friends, among them Sir Alexander 
 and Lady DufE Gordon and their children, who were then 
 lodging in another cottage hard by, and to whom he was 
 introduced by Tom Taylor. Here too he met R. H. Home. 
 
 To R. H. Horne.^ 
 
 To R. H. H. WITH Daphne ^ 
 
 That you will take the meaning of this verse 
 I know, deep-hearted friend and earnest man. 
 Poet ! and thro' the simple picture see 
 The winged fancy rising from the flower ! 
 
 1 Richard Henry [or Hengist] Home, 1803-1884, journalist, friend 
 and correspondent of Mrs. Browning, and author of Orion (18-13), 
 critical essays entitled A New Spirit of the Age (1844), etc. 
 
 * 'Daphne,' first published in Poe/ns, 1851.
 
 6 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 Too delicate for me to touch, or do 
 Aught but suggest ; send forth as Nature sends 
 The unfettered insects fluttering with deHght 
 Thro' the long warm blue summer's day and folded 
 At eve behind some rainy leaf, while the woods 
 Sing wet with Tempest — On its wings alone 
 Let it depend when once the warm-fingered sun 
 Has touched it into life — Enough for me 
 To paint the flower in all its natural hues 
 And plant it ; this done, its fate is with the sky. 
 But you will know how in these after days. 
 First love still follows the fair, fleeting shape ! 
 From the flush'd morning wave and woodland valley 
 Urging its wild pursuit, still in vain 
 Swift Nature lends her forces, still in vain 
 The old prophetic trees wave overhead — 
 Ah ! happy he whose last inspired desire 
 Conquering its anguish shall have power to pluck 
 The never-fading laurel ! Round his brows 
 Sweet Beauty hovers and a dawning gleam 
 Wakes ever on the leaves, for they are steep 'd 
 I' the springs of day, and therefore do we mark 
 This strange foreshadowed crown of poet love, 
 The crown of poet passion. Thus to you 
 I dedicate, and in your hands I place 
 Daphne, the darling of my own first love. 
 So take her, part in friendsliip, but indeed 
 Chiefly a tribute to the noble lyre 
 Which sang of the giant bright whose starry limbs 
 Still scale the midnight Heavens and plant aloft * 
 Heroic footsteps up untravelled space ! 
 Live long and wear that constellated wreath. 
 
 Later Meredith and his wife were at other lodgings in Wey- 
 bridge, in Felixstowe, and very frequently at Seaford, near
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 1 
 
 their friends the brothers Fitzgerald. It was, however, at 
 the house of Thomas Love Peacock ^ at Lower HaUiford, on 
 June 11, 1853, that a son was bom to them, whom they 
 named Arthur Gryffydd. 
 
 Two highly strung temperaments— man and wife — each 
 imaginative, emotional, quick to anger, cuttingly satirical in 
 dispute, each an incomparable wielder of the rapier of ridicule, 
 could not find domestic content within the narrow bounds of 
 poverty and lodgings. In 1858 came catastrophe, with the 
 result that George Meredith with his infant boy went to live 
 in London, thence to a cottage in Esher village, and later 
 to Copsham Cottage, between Esher and Oxshott. Mrs. Mere- 
 dith returned to Weybridge, where she died at Grotto Cottage, 
 Oatlands Park, in 1861. 
 
 To John W. Parker^ 
 
 Weybridge, Dec. 12, 1850. 
 My dear Sir, — I send you a Selection of Poems com- 
 pleted, and a List of others from which I intend selecting 
 for the projected volume. Of the latter I prize the 
 ' Cassandra ' ^ as my best work, but it is not yet finished. 
 The 'Shipwreck of Idomeneus ' is blank verse and 17 
 pages. The rest, with exception of one or two of the 
 ballads, are ready. Of the Poems I forward you, I wish 
 to have your opinion as early as you can give it. If you 
 think the specimens I forward you inferior to the require- 
 ments of the age, ' not saleable ' and so forth, I shall very 
 likely be content to abide by your decision for a time. 
 Mr. Home speaks very favourably of those he has seen, 
 but he has only seen the classical Poem and a few others, 
 
 ^ Thero are no letters to be found from or to Thomas Love Peacock, 
 but, though George Meredith did not meet him until almost im- 
 mediately before his marriage with Mrs. NicoUs, warm friendship, 
 and on George Meredith's part admiration, existed between them. 
 
 * Of John W. Parker and Son, booksellers and publishers, West Strand, 
 London. 
 
 » ' Cassandra ' did not appear in this volume, but in Modem Love, 1862.
 
 8 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 and consequently insists on Ballads and modern in- 
 gredients which I have endeavoured since then to supply. 
 ' Sorrows and Joys/ ' The Two Blackbirds/ ' Infancy and 
 Age ' 1 are a selection from those published in ' Household 
 Words.' The two ' blanlv verse metres ' beginning ' How 
 sweet on sunny afternoons ' are selections from half a 
 dozen of the sort, and will be, I tliink, the most original 
 features in the volume. Also ' London by LampUght ' 
 has two or more numbers to follow (but shorter ones), if 
 you think fit. Besides these I am writing a Ballad for 
 Household Words, which I think will be liked. I will tell 
 you the subject when I see you. You Avill see that in 
 the rape of Aurora I have followed the idea of Ariosto 
 and inserted a Uttle mythology — the union of the Sun 
 and the Dawn — and in ' Daphne ' I have avoided mention 
 of ' Dan Cupid.' I have other ' Pictures of the Rhine/ 
 but I thought six enough. 
 
 Thus far then I have explained the Contents of the 
 parcel, which as soon as you can peruse, do, and let me 
 know your opinions thereon and thereafter, when I wdll 
 have the pleasure of calling on you and consulting as to 
 the birth and baptism of my firstborn of the Muse. 
 
 To Eyre Crowe.^ 
 
 Seai'oed, Sussex. 
 
 My dear Crowe, — Will you come down here to us 
 
 ^ Not reprinted. A number of further poema in Household Words 
 are attributed to Meredith by Mr. Matz (T.P.'s Weekly, Feb. 17, 1911). 
 Except in the case of those already reprinted, proof is only forth- 
 coming in the case of ' Monmouth ' and ' Infancy and Age.' That in 
 the case of many contributions to Eouseltold Words, Meredith lent his 
 help to Home and to Wills, as well as to his wife, there is little doubt. 
 That the influence of his already marked style should bo seen is not 
 surprising ; readers of many of the items attributed to him by Mr. 
 Matz will, however, find little resemblance to the work of Meredith 
 even in his very early youth. 
 
 * Eyre Crowe, A.R.A., born 1824, son of Eyre Evans Crowe, the 
 iii^jtorian. He published two volumes on Thackeray.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 9 
 
 to-morrow ? We shall be glad to have you. Come and 
 stay a week. The weather is lovely. The heat quite 
 sweltering. Come, and if you like, bring the Boulogne 
 Fish-fays to give a truthful representation of nature. 
 I should prefer you coming now, as I may not be here 
 much longer, and the presence of the illustrious Franc- 
 boise(y) is desirable. Mrs. Meredith joins in kind regards. 
 She says you must come under pain of her displeasure. 
 Come, Crowe ! Here is fishing, bathing, rowing, 
 saihng, lounging, running, pic-nicing, and a cook who 
 builds a basis of strength to make us equal to all these 
 superhuman efforts. So Come ! 
 
 There is a train at ten a.m. first and second class, the 
 latter costs to Newhaven 9s. 8d. In the evening there 
 is one at 6 p.m. with a Third Class, the latter being 5s. lid. 
 It reaches Newhaven at h past 8. From Newhaven to 
 Seaford is a walk of two miles. If you walk, go on to 
 the Hotel at Newhaven, anyone will direct you the 
 way. You can go on the train. I may perhaps meet 
 you ; but on second thoughts this is unlikely as I may 
 be over the hills at a pic-nic. But I shall be at home by 
 the time you arrive. Let no excuse delay, and trust me. 
 — Anticipatingly yours, George Meredith. 
 
 To Edward Chapman.^ 
 
 Seatord, Sussex, Dec. 15, 1856. 
 
 My dear Mr. Chapman, — WiU you send me, this week, 
 the £25 for which I made application, to sum the £70 
 requested in advance, and so doing oblige your faithful 
 poet. . . . 
 
 I remain here, as I can work better than elsewhere, 
 though, engaged as I am, the dulness is something 
 
 ^ Of Chapman and Hall, publishers, Piooadilly, London.
 
 10 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 frightful, and hangs on my shoulders like Sinbad's old 
 man of the Sea. I dream of Boltons, I promise myseK 
 a visit there at Christmas, just for a beguilement ; but 
 it is doubtful if I shall quit hard work for a day, tiU the 
 book is finished. I will come Manuscript in hand. 
 TeU INIrs. Chapman how much I should wish to see her ; 
 and Serious Meta, daughter of the Sage ; also froHcsome 
 Florence ; not forgetting Reginald, the Roysterer. 
 
 The name of this novel is to be ' The Fair Frankincense.' 
 TeU me what you think of it ? — There are to be two 
 Prophets in the book, and altogether a new kind of villain ; 
 being Humbug active — a great gun likely to make a 
 noise, if I prime him properly. 
 
 Have you, or do any of your people know of, a book 
 of Hampshire Dialect ? I have a Sussex. Ballads, or 
 Songs, with the provinciaUsms wiU serve. Perhaps 
 Mr. Frederick Chapman may know of such a thing ? 
 Also a slang Dictionary, or book of the same with Gloss. 
 And if you have, or can get these, will you forward them 
 by post ? 
 
 IVIrs. Meredith is stajdng at Blackheath. Don't wait 
 to send by her, as I am anxious she should spend Xmas 
 in town. Dulness wiU put out the wax lights, increase 
 the weight of the pudding, toughen the turkey, make lead 
 of the beef, turn the entire feast into a nightmare, down 
 here, to one not head and heel at work. . . . 
 
 I am glad ' Aurora Leigh ' is so well received. I have 
 not read it, but the extracts promise. Confirm to me 
 the news of Bailey's^ pension. Will that £100 per ann. 
 chain him to earth, or only give him firmer spring into 
 the empyrean ! I should like to spin on the talk ; but 
 the paper contracts, and the Grave Man of business 
 frowns already at four pages of it. So farewell. 
 
 ^ Author of FcsUu.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 11 
 
 To W. C. Bennett.^ 
 
 Seatord, Sussex, April 27, 1857. 
 
 Sir, — I have to thank you for your latest volume of 
 poems : and in doing so, I must beg your excuse for 
 omitting to acknowledge a previous single piece for- 
 warded to me, and which I discover in the present col- 
 lection. It is usual in such cases to say what we do 
 hke ; but I presume a sufficient balance in you to hear 
 both. 
 
 I like your songs, and baby-ballads very much. I like 
 your feeling for English scenery, and remarkable de- 
 scriptive power. I do not like your idylls (e.g. the ' Boat 
 race ') because both the form, the matter, and the blank 
 verse, recall Tennyson so strongly, and one expects more 
 than imitations from you. By the way, the giving of 
 a daughter to the conqueror in a Boat race is, if British, 
 not customary. A girl might give herself ; but for a 
 Papa so to stipulate imphes unpleasant paternal con- 
 tempt for the lover's physique, and a sort of calculation 
 seldom made, I fancy. You see I speak freely. 
 
 It seems to me that your taste is not for what you 
 succeed in best, viz. minute description ; and there 
 you might produce a first-rate Dutch home-story in 
 ten eight-hne, or say, six-line verse ; but I am passing 
 my boundary in affecting to advise, and must honestly 
 ask you to pardon me for the impertinence. 
 
 When at Weybridge the Merediths first made the acquaint- 
 ance of Sir Alexander and Lady Duff Gordon, and their 
 children, Maurice, Urania, and Janet ; and at their house Tom 
 Taylor, Kmglake, Mrs. Norton, J. E. Millais, G. F. Watts, 
 
 * Author of many volumes of verse between 1850 and 1855. A 
 collected edition of his poems appeared in 18G2 in Routlodge'a ' British 
 Poets.' The volume here acknowledged would appear to be Queen 
 Eleanor's Vengeance and Oilier Poems (1857).
 
 12 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 and many other artists and men of letters were frequent 
 visitors.^ When Meredith left the neighbourhood Ins friends 
 lost sight of him. On his return to Esher he found the 
 Duff Gordons settled between Esher and Oxshott, and he 
 himself went, soon after, to Copsham Cottage close by. 
 Janet Duff Gordon and Edith Nicolls were playfellows at 
 Weybridge, and tell how, as small children, Meredith 
 enthralled them by wild fairy-tales which he spun for their 
 edification. In so far as Meredith ever drew his characters 
 direct from life, Janet Duff Gordon was his model for Rose 
 Jocelyn in Evan Harrington, whilst her father and mother 
 are pictured as Sir Erank and Lady Jocelyn. 
 
 To Miss Janet Duff Gordon. 
 
 Schubert's Farewell ^ 
 
 The Pines are darkly swaying : 
 
 The skies are ashen-grey : 
 
 I mock my soul delaying 
 
 The word I have to say. 
 
 As if above it thundered 
 That we, who are one heart, 
 Should now for aye be sundered, 
 My passion bids me part : 
 
 I dare not basely languish, 
 
 Nor press your lips to mine ; 
 
 But with one cry of anguish, 
 
 My darling I resign. 
 
 Our dreams we two must smother : 
 The bitter truth is here : 
 
 * Soe The Fourth Oeneration, by Janet Ross (London, Constable and 
 Co., 1912) ; also the name author's Three Oenerationa of Erujliahwomcn 
 (London, John Murray, 1888). 
 
 * Words written to Schubert's ' Addio ' and given to Janet Duff 
 Gordon.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 13 
 
 The hand is for another, 
 
 Which I have held so dear ! 
 
 To pray that at the altar, 
 You may be bless'd above, 
 Ah, help me, if I falter. 
 And keep me true to love ! 
 
 But once, but once, look kindly — 
 
 Once clasp me with your spell : 
 
 Let joy and pain meet blindly, 
 
 And throb our dumb Farewell. 
 
 At Copsham, as previously at Weybridge and Seaford, a 
 frequent companion was Maurice Fitzgerald, who owned 
 property at the latter place. lie was one of the earliest to 
 recognise Meredith's powers. Nephew to Edward Fitzgerald, 
 he was a student of literature, an accomplished classical 
 scholar, and an epicure. He is suggested by Adrian Harley 
 in Richard Fcvcrel. Sir Francis Burnand in his Records and 
 Reminiscences gives an interesting description of Meredith 
 as he first met him in company with Fitzgerald at Copsham. 
 
 To Miss Janet Duff Gordon. 
 
 ' Fitz 1 goes about with a volume of Francatelli ^ in his 
 hand. Thus we have colloquized.' 
 
 Fitz. ' Oyster-soup is out of the question, with cod and 
 oysters to follow. It must be brown. But if the 
 Veal doesn't come from Brighton ! Good G — ! what 
 a set of heathens these people are ! ' 
 
 Poet. ' Eh ? Oh, yes, brown, of course ! ' 
 
 Fitz. ' You haven't the slightest idea of the difficulties.' 
 
 Poet, (mooning). ' She was dressed very becomingly in 
 white Sauce.' 
 
 ^ Maurice Fitzgerald. 
 
 * Francatelli's book on Cookory,
 
 14 LETTERS OF GEORGE IMEREDITH 
 
 FiTZ. (taking it naturally). ' A la Bechamel. That 's what 
 I 'm most anxious about. Do you think Ockendon 
 understood my directions ? The potatoes to be 
 shced about half an inch : sauce poured over : then 
 fresh layer ' — (becomes excited) ' if well done, I know 
 nothing better in the world than Potatoes k la 
 Bechamel ! ' 
 
 Poet, (writes). 'And you are all I care for in the world, 
 dearest Rose ! I care for notliing but you on earth 1 ' 
 (Answers a trebly repeated query) ' Oh, yes ! I like 
 Maintenon cutlets very much.' 
 
 FiTZ. (rubbing his hands). ' I can trust to old Ockendon 
 for them, thank Heaven ! ' 
 
 Poet, (getting awake). ' Your wife should be a good 
 cook, Maurice ? ' 
 
 FiTZ. ' Well, if she 's at all educated and civilized, she 
 will be.' 
 
 Poet. ' I know a marriageable young lady who hates 
 potatoes, doesn't understand a particle of the great 
 science, and finishes her dinner in two minutes.' 
 
 Fitz. ' Lord help the man who marries her ! ' 
 
 Poet. ' I think he '11 be a lucky fellow.' 
 
 Fitz. ' No accounting for tastes ! ' (Pursues the theme.) 
 ' The pheasant opposite you. I '11 take the plovers. 
 Ockendon says the Jelly has set. Fancy your not 
 knowing how much a gill is ! — a gill and a half of 
 Maraschino. I think the Jelly will be a success.' 
 
 Poet. ' Upon my honour, you look as radiant as if you 
 had just touched off an ode ! ' 
 
 Fitz. ' We won't open the Champagne till the 2nd course.' 
 
 Poet. ' I stick to Claret. — Wliat 's the matter ? ' 
 
 Fitz. (impatiently). ' I have asked you half a dozen times 
 whether you think the Ratafias should garnish the 
 Jelly ! ' 
 
 Poet, (indifferently). ' Just as you like.' (Writes) ' But 
 a misfortune now befell our hero.'
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 15 
 
 FiTZ. (with melancholy). ' I 've given up all hope of the 
 plovers' eggs ! Heigho ! ' (stretches himself in a chair 
 in a state of absolute mental depression). 
 
 Poet, regarding him, takes out note-book : writes : 
 ' Life is a thing of Circles, hke Dante's Hell. In the 
 narrowest of them Despair may be as abysmal, Hope 
 as great as in the widest ! The patriot who sees his 
 country enslaved : the lover who wins a smile from 
 his mistress one day, and hears the next that she 
 has bestowed the like on another gentleman : these 
 sorrow not, or joy not more violently than one who 
 is deprived of plovers' eggs, expectant of them, or 
 greets a triumphant dish of potatoes a la Bechamel ! ' 
 
 About the year 1858 Meredith first met Frederick Augustus 
 Maxse (1833-1900). Captain Maxse, R.N., promoted Eear- 
 Admiral in 1877, was the second son of James Maxse by 
 his marriage with Lady Caroline Fitzhardinge, daughter of 
 the fifth Earl of Berkeley. He acted as naval A.D.C. to 
 Lord Raglan, and after the battle of the Alma displayed 
 conspicuous gallantry in carrying despatches from the 
 army to the fleet. Promoted Commander in 1855, he 
 retired in 1867, and unsuccessfully contested Southampton 
 in the Radical interest in the following year. During tliis 
 election Meredith canvassed actively for him. He ^\as also 
 beaten in a subsequent contest for Middlesex in 1874. His 
 Radical tendencies in these days were the dual outcome of 
 his experiences of the inept unpreparedness of the Govern- 
 ment for the war in the Crimea, and the sufferings wliich he 
 saw and shared in that campaign. In later life he was a 
 strong Unionist. 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 CopsHAM Cottage, Eshee. 
 
 My dear Captaest Maxse, — I have been struck down 
 by illness, and did not receive your pamphlet till two
 
 16 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 days back. I have been happy to do my best with regard 
 to corrections. 
 
 I like the pamphlet. It goes with many of my views, 
 and it is generous : a point on which I lay stress, for the 
 popular principle is avowed seljBshness and breeches 
 pocket, or bare sentimentahsm, in dealing with foreign 
 relations. 
 
 I do not Uke the colloquial introduction. ' J. B.' 
 and the * West End ' are in my opinion beneath the 
 dignity of an earnest address to one's countrymen. I 
 have taken the Hberty (for which I beg your excuse) to 
 strike out one or two sentences. 
 
 But, may I ask, are you not under some influence 
 yonder ? Are you not prompted by some pecuUar feeling 
 — a private friendship ? The sound to me, throughout, 
 is that of one whose heart was moved by personal esteem. 
 I mention this, because I think it will be a general im- 
 pression ; and I know enough of the French to be aware 
 that some of them rise high with you in intimac}''. 
 
 Anyhow I think the pamphlet must fail ; for what 
 might have floated \vill sink it. It says true and preg- 
 nant things ; but have you forgotten that when you are 
 putting your countrymen and friend flagrantly in the 
 wrong, they never can see it unless you consent to relieve 
 their eyes with the shady doings of the opposite party. 
 
 You have not toned down your picture. You put us 
 in the wrong entirely. Even I, who feel mth you, enter- 
 tained a constant protest as I read on. 
 
 I think you should have devoted a page or two to a 
 consideration of the sentiments of the different classes 
 of Frenchmen towards England and to an exposition of 
 the French character. And it would have been as well 
 to have made an attempt philosophically to account for 
 these epidemics of animosity on both sides. I beheve 
 that on ours it springs solel}'' from panic, and the revul-
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 17 
 
 sions of humiliation and shame attendant thereon. 
 Where have the French more enthusiastic admirers of 
 their valour ? of their intellect ? of their wit ? I think 
 our hands are given heartily across Channel till this 
 cursed uneasiness about our ' homes ' makes the Briton 
 draw back and clench his honest fist. 
 
 Of the Emperor I strongly approve your bold speaking. 
 He has done great work and shown great-mindedness 
 towards us. The veil of the ' Panic ' is between us and 
 him ; but even should he become our foe, the Italian 
 campaign must be seen in its true features sooner or later. 
 It is worthy an Epic. About Savoy our singing has been 
 small, but the political principle involved in the appro- 
 priation of this province, and the danger to Switzerland, 
 justify plain speaking. — Pardon me, I beg, and beheve 
 me, my dear Captain Maxse, yours very faithfully, 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 Verses given in MS. to Miss Janet Duff Gordon 
 about the year 1859. 
 
 We sat beneath the humming pines : 
 
 We knew that we must part, 
 I might not even speak by signs 
 
 The motions of my heart : 
 
 And as I took your hand, and gazed 
 
 Subdued into your eyes, 
 I saw the arm of Fate upraised, — 
 
 And stiU'd the inward cries ; 
 
 I saw that this could never be 
 
 Which I had dared to pray : 
 And in the tear that fell from me. 
 
 There fell my hfe that day ! 
 
 VOL. I. — B
 
 18 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 Verses given in MS. to Miss Janet Duff Gordon 
 about the year 1859 or 1860. 
 
 The waves are pressing up with force, 
 
 Along the screaming shore ; 
 Like Phantom hosts of warrior horse, 
 
 They charge, beneath the roar. 
 
 And each darts out a foamy tongue 
 
 As prone he falls, and dies : 
 The dirge of many a soul is sung 
 
 Beneath yon stormy skies. 
 
 And may it be my dirge of dust, 
 
 If she who has my phght. 
 If she I love shall wreck my trust. 
 
 And wrap my soul in night. 
 
 In 1860 Miss Janet Duflf Gordon became engaged to, and 
 in December of the same year married, Henry James Ross, 
 head of the firm of Briggs and Co., bankers, at Alexandria. Mr. 
 Ross took part, with Layard, in the excavation of Nineveh. 
 He also wrote a book, Letters from the East, 1837-1857. 
 
 To Miss Ja7iet Duff Gordon. 
 
 COPSHAM, ESHER. 
 
 My dear Janet, — Yesterday I went to Town, and of 
 course forgot — not you — but your catalogue. I there- 
 fore called on Wyllis and What 's-his-name and asked 
 the latest period of the packing. Thereupon a melancholy 
 man conducted me to an enormous box. ' That 's choke 
 full, sir, and we 've got 40 volumes more to stow in — 
 somehow — / don't know how.' This was my time to tell 
 him that you had bought half of Mudie's library, and 
 expected that as well to be got into the said box. — ^^^ly,
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 19 
 
 wouldn't my Henry do it ? — Yes, but, my dear Janet, 
 Willis and What 's-his-name aren't in love with you, and 
 they can't. Passion does not inspire them. As for your 
 poet, he sinks to the lowest depths of prose, and suggests 
 the necessity for a fresh box, a small one, in addition to 
 the one of elephantine proportions and yet unequal 
 stomach. You are to write to me, and say that you 
 consent to this, and I will call on W. & W. — If this is 
 clear, all right. But I feel utterly perplexed. 
 
 I have been, and am, knocked down again by the old 
 iUness. I hope it won't last, for it 's horridly dispiriting. 
 
 God bless you, my dear girl ! If you don't make a 
 good wife, I 've never read a page of woman. He 's a 
 lucky fellow to get you, and the best thing he can do is 
 to pray he may always know his luck. Watts & Coutts ^ 
 passed Hke doleful spectres this afternoon, in the fog. 
 The hunt is Queenless evermore ? 
 
 Arthur ' hopes you 're quite weU.' He can't think of 
 anything more to say, and on my telling him I 've written 
 so, he explodes with laughter. 
 
 Verses given in 31 S. to Miss Janet Duff Gordon. 
 Lied von Rastrelli 
 
 Deep, deep, under the sea, 
 
 Pearls throw their soft Hghts uselessly : 
 
 Hear the wave wander. 
 
 Hither and yonder : 
 Deep, deep, under the sea. 
 
 High, high, thro' the bright spheres. 
 
 Music there is no mortal hears : 
 
 {(yr, Harps of the Angels thrill heavenly ears) : 
 
 ^ Coutts, huntsman of tho Due crAumalcs harriers.
 
 20 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 Love's divine chorus, 
 Passes dead o'er us : 
 High, high, thro' the bright spheres. 
 
 Dark, dark, here in my breast 
 Treasures and harpstrings idly rest : 
 All my life lingers 
 Dumb for thy fingers : 
 Dark, dark, here in my breast. 
 
 To F. Evans.'^ 
 
 Copsiia:^! Cottage, Esher, Jan. 21, 1860. 
 
 My dear Sir, — I thank you for the £50 cheque on acct. 
 
 I tried to call on you yesterday, when I was in Town, 
 but had no time. Perhaps you may as well, since you 
 kindly undertake the task, write to Messrs. Harper's 
 agents, or send to them, and come to the best terms you 
 can. The story * (as you may tell them) will suit Yankee 
 sentiment and Yankee principles. Exalt me tolerably, 
 and in fine, I shall be quite satisfied that you will arrange 
 it as well as it can be done : but there should be no loss of 
 time. 
 
 N.B. — Perhaps, should it be needful, you may say 
 that we are going to be guilty of no impropriety in this 
 tale, and will never again offend young maids. ^ 
 
 To Miss Janet Duff Gordon. 
 
 COPSHAM, ESHEE, 1860. 
 
 My dear Orange Blossom, — I "* has been at me, 
 
 1 Of Bradbury, Evans and Co., proprietors of Once a Week and Punch, 
 now Bradbury, Agnew and Co. ' Dear old Pator ' Evans, Meredith 
 used to call him. * Evan Harrington. 
 
 * Richard Feverei had been banned as ' immoral ' and preached 
 against from tlio pulpit — a fact wliich, in the 'sixties, did not stimulate 
 the sale of fiction. * The Esher doctor.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 21 
 
 and with the best intentions in the world, no doubt, but 
 on the Earth I lie, and imagination will picture the idea 
 that I am going under it. Here is a cheerful theme to 
 address to a sweet young bride ! But if I am not better 
 by Saturday I shall not witness the wreath on my 
 Janet's head, nor see the fixing of the ring on her 
 hand. . . . 
 
 I am distressed to hear such bad accounts of my dear 
 Lady Gordon. Come I will, if I can, but I am horribly 
 
 unwell. (There 's a rumour of the eldest C girl going 
 
 to marry. . . . ) — Your affectionate and faithful 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To Mrs. Janet Ross. 
 
 ESHER. 
 
 My dear Janet, — A thousand thanks for the photo : 
 it is a good and fitting present at this awful instant. It 
 admirably represents the occasion. Looking on it, I see 
 the corpse of the Maiden Janet. Just what she may 
 henceforth give of herself, and no more. It isn't bad, 
 it 's pleasant to have, but it 's Janet washed out and 
 decorated with soot. Behind it hes her free youth. 
 She looks darkly forward on the children of Egypt. It 's 
 Janet half Copt already. 
 
 How do you feel ? Do write down half a page of your 
 sensations, and hand them to me, under seal, with 
 directions that I may read them a year hence and com- 
 pare with results. Not that you 're romantic, and I 
 don't suppose you flutter vastly just when you 're caught, 
 but still, dear Orange Blossom, you 're a bit of a bird, 
 like the rest. 
 
 By the way, why am I to have the photo of Janet 
 as wife, while Arthur takes the maiden ? 
 
 Of coursse I '11 send out my books and my poems to my
 
 22 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 best public. Unless I do them horridly, and I must soon 
 get stronger, or I shall. 
 
 If I can come, as I trust to, I must return on Wednes- 
 day. I have all the writing on a paper now on my 
 shoulders. Thursday is contribution day. I shall return 
 and spend a week with your mother later, when she is 
 alone, and may want me. 
 
 And now, my dear, my future Copt, and my good 
 friend forever, as I hope, farewell, till we meet. I pray 
 fervently you may be happy. 
 
 I think of leaving Copsham, to live in two small town 
 rooms, that I may save for Arthur's education. The 
 safest address to me from Egypt wiU be Chapman & 
 Hall's, 193 PiccadiUy. 
 
 To 8. Lucas.^ 
 
 ESHEB. 
 
 My dear Lucas, — You sent proofs of the first story 
 (The Highwayman), but, if I haven't returned them, I 
 have mislaid them. Send proofs of the second story at 
 once, as I have now time to finish it. By the way, I don't 
 think your common pay should extend to me, and you 
 are bound to heighten the scale. If you do, I will give 
 you some very good stories, but I must have money. 
 Evans, I am sure, will do this, upon your reputation. 
 
 As to those that I wrote for the occasion, they have 
 not my stamp upon them, and I would prefer not to 
 append my name. In the matter of verse, also, I shall 
 rarely be able to give my time for the money I get for 
 it. You have the option of rejecting. Consider whether 
 you should not offer fitting inducements to contribute 
 one's best ? 
 
 ^ Editor of Once a Week. Of tho ' Highwayman ' and ' Paul Bentley ' 
 here roferrod to, no trace can be found.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 23 
 
 I think you might at once put the 1st portion of ' Paul 
 Bentley ' into the artist's hands. 
 
 I wish you a sound digestion to your Christmas, and 
 am, my dear Lucas, your faithful George ]Meeedith. 
 
 To Mrs. Janet Ross. 
 
 COPSHAM, EsHER, May 17, 1861. 
 
 My dear Janet, — The little man has been in great 
 glee to answer you. He had paper and everything 
 ready to do so a week before your letter came, and his 
 reply is all his own, and from his heart. He must love 
 you. Who could fail to love one so staunch and tender 
 to him ? Here have I waited silently, thinking much 
 of you, and incurring I knew not what condemnation. 
 I have not thought of you less because I withheld my 
 pen. The truth is, my experiences are aU mental — I 
 see nothing of the world, and what I have to say goes 
 into books. However, I am now compelled by my state 
 of health to give it up for a time. Your poet — dare I 
 call myseK that, after hearing the rhapsodic eulogies of 
 old Alder ? ^ I assure you, my dear, I caimot equal him. 
 I might put him into rhythm, but that would spoil his 
 hearty idiom. I feel quite a friendhness for old Alder 
 after hearing him speak of you. — ' I never saw a young 
 lady like her, and never shall again. She 's a loss to 
 Esher and to England ! ' etc. You are compared vdih. 
 JMiss Gilbert and Miss Reynolds ; and men are dared 
 to say that either fair equestrian surpassed you on 
 horseback. Apropos of the former lady, Landseer has 
 a picture of her in the Academy, leaning exhausted 
 against the flanks of a mare couchant. ' Taming of the 
 Shrew ' the picture is named, and it is sufficiently bad. 
 
 * A butcher of Esher, and a regular follower of the Duo d'AumoJe's 
 hounds.
 
 24 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 Millais has nothing. Hunt a ' Street Wooing in Cairo/ 
 of which you could judge better than I. Leighton has 
 a ' Paolo and Francesca ' ; painted just as the book has 
 dropped and they are in no state to read more. You 
 would scorn it ; but our friendship never rested on 
 common sentiments in art. I greatly admire it. I 
 think it the sole English picture exhibiting passion that 
 I have seen. I have the delight to stand alone in my 
 judgment of this, as of most things, and I shall see the 
 world coming round to my opinion, and thinking it its 
 own. Does that smack of the original George M. ? — 
 Never mind. Well : there is a beautiful portrait of 
 
 Alice P . Idealised of course — showing more in 
 
 her than she possesses ; but my friend Maxse — one 
 who is strong on points of feminine beauty (a naval 
 man loose upon society) — thinks her superior to the 
 picture in physique. He meets her out. He said to 
 me, the first time : ' I think she thought me slow ' : — 
 the second : ' Is she stupid ? ' His conclusive judgment 
 pronounces her an exquisitely plumed little pol parrot. 
 She is being admired : people think she should wear 
 more clothing. The effect is said to be that of a damsel 
 such as you see at the booth of a country fair. — ^Maxse 
 is a very nice fellow with strong literary tastes. He 
 was Naval Aide-de-Camp to Lord Lyons in the Crimea. 
 I dare say you have heard of him. You would like 
 him. He is very anxious to be introduced some day 
 to Rose Jocelyn. I tell him that Janet ROSS is a finer 
 creature. If Rose satisfies him, how will not Janet ! 
 He has taken a cottage at Molesey, and we make ex- 
 peditions together on foot. Talking of Rose, did you 
 see the Saturday ? It says you are a heroine who deserve 
 to be a heroine. And yet I think I missed you. Your 
 Mother tells me that Mrs. Austin speaks in very hand- 
 some terms of the performance generally, and of the
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 25 
 
 portrait in particular. — I have not seen your mother for 
 some days. She has had another attack, a very severe 
 one. It wears my heart to think of her. And yet her 
 constitution rallies from time to time, and I have still 
 strong hopes of her ultimate recovery. She must not 
 spend another winter in England. — The baby is quite 
 charming. Like you, but rosier, and with a tendency 
 to be just as positive. She articulates admirably, and 
 shows quahties equal to the physiological promise I 
 have noted from the first. How I should wish Arthur 
 to conquer a fair position in the world, and lead her 
 away as a certain Janet was led ! At present he is not 
 brilhant but he is decidedly hopeful. I don't want to 
 force him yet. I wish to keep him sound, and to instil 
 good healthy habits of mind and body. In writing, 
 spelling, and reading ; in memory for what he acquires, 
 few children surpass him. And he really thinks — without 
 being at all instigated to think. I remained at Copsham 
 for his sake, and perhaps shall not quit it for some time 
 to come. He will not go to a regular school till next 
 year. I don't like the thought of his going ; but it 
 must be, and so I submit. 
 
 I have three works in hand. The most advanced is 
 ' Emilia Belloni,' of which I have read some chapters 
 to your mother, and gained her strong approval. Emilia 
 is a feminine musical genius. I gave you once, sitting 
 on the mound over Copsham, an outline of the real story 
 it is taken from. Of course one does not follow out real 
 stories ; and this has simply suggested Emilia to me. — 
 Then, my next novel is called ' A Woman's Battle.' 
 Qy. — good title ? I think it will be my best book as yet. 
 The third is weaker in breadth of design. It is called 
 ' Van Diemen Smith ' — is interesting as a story. Nous 
 verrons : — Last night I went with Maxse to the House 
 of Commons to hear the Debate on the Constitution.
 
 26 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 I saw your friend Layard, but did not hear him. Eothen ^ 
 was absent. Gladstone swallowed the whole Conser- 
 vative body with his prodigious yawn and eloquence 
 alternately. I never saw a man yawn so naively and 
 excusably. The truth is that there is some honesty 
 but small stock of brains on the Conservative side. I 
 could not wait for Bright. I heard Horsman, who is 
 good enough, and seems bidding for the Conservative 
 leadership. He will perhaps get it ; but he is not the 
 man to prop a sinking cause. It is clear that we in 
 England are going down to a lower circle. Natural 
 development, no doubt. 
 
 I have made friends with a nice feUow lately : a 
 
 son of the Ambassador at Athens, Sir T. W whom 
 
 your mother knew. He married a Bonaparte — a daughter 
 of Lucien — who is what all the Bonaparte women are. 
 
 Two boys, N W and B W . The 
 
 latter I know. He has nice tastes, and is an odd mixture 
 of Irishman and Corsican. He wanted me to go to 
 Athens with him. I may meet him returning and come 
 home through Provence. He is intimate with the 
 members of the new School of Provencal poets there, 
 and wishes me to know them. Mistral I have read. 
 He is really a fine poet. If I go I shall have some- 
 thing to write to you about. 
 
 The dear good Bart, looks melancholy riding alone. 
 It 's rather sad seeing him out. Otherwise he is as 
 cheerful and of the same port as of yore. 
 
 My dear, I have been thinking many a month of a 
 Wedding present for you. I don't like jewels, and 
 books you have enough of. It struck me that a magni- 
 ficent photograph of your father and mother, Mossy and 
 Rainy, would please you best. Your mother will sit 
 when she is well enough. What say you ? 
 
 ^ Kinglake.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 27 
 
 In conclusion, let me beg you to send to me and tell 
 me anything that you want that I may have the pleasure 
 to get it for you. I rejoice with all my soul that you 
 are so happy. By the way, Maxse introduced me to 
 the Comte de Paris the other day : who said of your 
 husband : ' Mr. Ross is a very clever man,' in a tone of 
 conviction and esteem. Of you he spoke as it pleased 
 me to hear. The Orleanists seem looking up, owing to 
 the Aumale pamphlet. The Duke was chairman of the 
 Literary Fund Dinner last night, and spoke capitally. 
 
 Remember me to your husband very kindly. And 
 please write soon and cordially forgive me. My heart 
 is very much with you, and I am always at my Janet's 
 service. 
 
 To F. M. Evans. 
 
 [Zurich], July 9, 1861. 
 
 My DEAR Evans, — Be so good as to send me £30, 
 through your banker, to Innsbriick. Address Poste 
 Restante ; and please don't fail to do this within a couple 
 of days after receipt of this letter, as your servant will 
 require it. 
 
 Arthur is quite well, and bore his traveUing like a 
 man. He met with perfect kindness from everybody, 
 and remarks that ' these Germans are nice people.' He 
 has it on his mind that he did not go to say good-bye to 
 Mrs. Orridge. Let her know his compunctious visitings. 
 
 Write a word of avis that your banker has done the 
 good deed ; and also, if Lucas has not written, say 
 whether he w^ants the continuation and conclusion of 
 the ' Dyke Farm.' i 
 
 Ziirich is a charming place, with a clear lake, fine hills, 
 
 » There is no trace ot this story — probably an early title for Rhoda 
 Fittrniu'j.
 
 28 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 and Alps in the distance. The Swiss fleece you with 
 admirable gravity. The great ' shots ' of Stanz parade 
 the town with their prizes in their hats. ... I shall send 
 you something shortly. I am better already. I shall 
 soon be eager for work. 
 
 To F. M. Evans. 
 
 Meran, South Tyrol, Austria, 1861. 
 
 My dear Evans, — I wrote to you from Ziirich, asking 
 for £30 to be sent on immediately to Innsbriick. It has 
 not come. I have calculated on it, and am therefore 
 quite upset by the contretemps. I have an idea that 
 the letter cannot have reached you, or something is 
 wrong. I wrote to Chapman from Laudek, but am 
 losing faith in letters. So, to make sure, I write to you 
 again. Please send, on the day you get this, £20 to 
 the Poste Restante, Meran, Siid Tyrol, Austria. I am 
 almost inclined to ask you to telegraph to a banker here 
 to hand the money to me at the hotel, Graf v. Meran. 
 The truth is I have made a mess of my money-arrange- 
 ments and am here without any, dependent on a civil 
 landlord for wherewithal to make merry abroad. Don't 
 fail to do something. I wish Frederick would see Fred 
 Chapman and hear what he has done. If he has sent 
 the money in time for it to reach me here on Monday, 
 then please send £10 to Milan, Lombardy, Italy, Poste 
 Restante — in a registered letter, or credit on a banker. 
 If he has delayed, or has not received my letter, then I 
 don't object to the expense of a telegraph to a banker 
 here, teUing him to hand me the money at my hotel. 
 
 In my letter from Ziirich I wished you to tell me 
 whether Lucas wanted the conclusion of the ' Dyke 
 Farm.' I left word for him to speak to that effect, in 
 Bouverie St. What the deuce has come to you all ?
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 29 
 
 The moment I leave England all 's dead silent to rear- 
 ward. I 'm not of much importance, but still I expect 
 my country to make a little sign. I suppose, from 
 Lucas's silence, he does not want the work in question. 
 But why doesn't he say so ? Contributors used in this 
 fashion, fall to the ground. Pray, write and tell me 
 some news. Is it true that ' Once a Week ' is dead ? Is 
 the ' Times ' defunct ? Send to Milan a paper or two of 
 any kind, with the latest news. I shall see you, I hope, 
 in the latter end of August. — The country about Meran 
 is a great garden open to the South. Arthur rests in 
 one of the valleys more north, and is making a collection 
 of butterflies and beetles. He is quite well, and very 
 much astonished at the smiles he meets in the houses. 
 His more poetical impressions he keeps to himself. 
 
 To F. M. Evans. 
 
 Meran, July 1861. 
 
 My dear Evans (Father and Son !), — I have re- 
 ceived the £20 forwarded here, and right thankfully. 
 Your letter to Innsbriick has not reached me ; nor have 
 I heard from Lucas. 
 
 I shall see whether the long-named banker at Inns- 
 briick won't forward the money here, otherwise I shall 
 be put out of my route altogether. 
 
 My walks of about 30 miles a day under a fiery sun 
 have improved me, and I think I can go to work now for 
 another nine months. Have you any idea of what 
 Lucas's intentions were concerning the ' Dyke Farm ' ? 
 
 I have an autobiographical story in view for O.a.W. 
 when Chapman's 3 vols, are out of hand. 
 
 That is, if O.a.W. survives. For I know nothing and 
 hear nothing. Nobody sends me a ' Times ' or a 
 ' Punch ' ! I am forgotten if I don't set to \\-ork all the
 
 30 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 agencies of science. You write me contemptuously 
 short business paragraphs. It 's clear to me that travel- 
 ling is for great men alone. They have their country's 
 eyes on them ! 
 
 The bother is that if I only knew where Lucas is going 
 to, I might come across him, and put something stronger 
 than a pen to his breast to make him out with what he 
 means. 
 
 Arthur is quite well. He is here, and a mighty traveller 
 as you may suppose. He says he is happy, and is catching 
 butterflies. 
 
 To Captain Maxse, 
 
 Meran, South Tybol, July 26, 1861. 
 
 My dear Maxse, — Is it you who send the poem 
 ' Tannhauser ' ^ to me here ? And why ? Do you think 
 it very good ? — my dear fellow ! I '11 talk about that 
 presently, but I wish you were with me or I with you : 
 for my companion 's a dear old boy, but we don't get on 
 quite as travellers. And not only for that reason, but 
 for many reasons, I want to see you, and shake your 
 hand, and hear about your bubbles, and the hfe you go 
 through. In fact, I begin to feel that I must see you and 
 have a very strong affection for you, if you don't mind 
 hearing that much, O my shame-faced Briton 1 — Well, 
 I fear I shall not meet you at Baden Baden, even if you 
 go there. I have been thrown out by money-arrange- 
 ments faihng, letters missing, etc. I return by Botzen 
 to Verona ; thence to Milan, Turin, Dijon, Paris. The 
 dear little man is quite well, making a collection of 
 Tyrolese butterflies and beetles. He is at Laudck, about 
 80 miles in the rear of us ; at the junction of the Inn and 
 
 ^ ' Tannhiiuser, or the Battle of the Bards,' bj'' Neville Temple 
 (Julian Henry Charles Fane) and Edward Trevor (Edward Robert 
 Bulwer Lytton, Earl of Lytton).
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 31 
 
 the Rosanna. The Rosanna, by the way, put mo in 
 mind of you — nay, sang of you with a mountain voice, 
 somehow, I don't know how. Perhaps because it is 
 both hearty and gallant, subtle, and sea-green. You 
 never saw so lovely a brawling torrent. Clear, ice-cold, 
 foaming. You shall have the verses it inspired. Tell 
 me : Would you like the dedication of my volume of 
 Poems, when it 's ready ? Say, no, if you feel no. For 
 my part I feel the honour wiU be mine. 
 
 We walked from Innsbriick to Laudek in three days. 
 W does not walk in rain, or when it 's to be appre- 
 hended ; nor when there 's a chance of nightfall ; nor 
 does he like it in the heat ; and he 's not the best hand 
 in the world at getting up in the morning, and he 's 
 rather excitable. But still thoroughly kind and good. 
 So we did not come at a great rate. From Laudek we 
 took three days and a quarter to Meran, whence I write 
 to you. The country is wonderful. Mountains holding 
 up cups of snow to the fiery sun, who glares on them in 
 vain. The peasantry are a noble race : pious, and with 
 a strong smell. Priests abound and soap flies before 
 them. I sigh, hke Tannhauser, for the Venusberg. 
 Now, don't you think the writers of * Tannhauser,' clever 
 as they are and of marked poetic power, should have 
 waited till they wore ofi Tennyson somewhat ? Such 
 is my opinion. There was to be a review in the ' Times.' 
 Has it appeared ? 
 
 Meran is southern in heat and luxury of growth of all 
 kinds of fruits. The cicada goes all day hke a factory 
 wheel — poetic simile ! The flies sting, and the sun is 
 relentless. I begin to understand why Daphne fled into 
 a laurel from the fiery fellow. Still I hke sun, as you do. 
 Anything 's better than the meagre days we got last 
 year. This land abounds in falling waters, brooks, 
 torrents, all ice cold. We drank at the wells every ten
 
 32 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 minutes, sat over the brooks naked legged, dipped our 
 heads desperately. Here are crucifixes at every fifty 
 yards. You go to a well and the pipe through which the 
 water flows is through the body of a Christ. Hear you 
 a droning noise on the wind, it issues from a body of 
 peasants mumbhng their rosaries as they march to work. 
 
 They are invariably courteous. W says, they remind 
 
 him more of the Spaniards than do any other people, 
 but they have not the same prolonged gravity of deport- 
 ment. Nothing can be grander than the colossal moun- 
 tains of porphyry and dolomite shining purple and rosy, 
 snow-capped here and there, with some tumultuous river 
 noising below, and that eternal stillness overhead, save 
 when some great peak gathers the thunders and bellows 
 for a time. Then to see the white sulphurous masks 
 curl and cover round it, and drip moisture on the hanging 
 meadows, would task your powers of description, my 
 friend ! 
 
 Do our loves prosper ? 
 
 * Life is real — life is earnest ! 
 Tiddle lol de lol de lol.' 
 
 But I wish you would fix soon ; for as I told you, and 
 as you feel, time goes, and the wheel is pleasant, but if 
 you keep on the wheel you are grey before you know, and 
 then the past looks horridly empty. Heigho ! I have 
 Art to solace me. If I saw you stick to that I would 
 not preach. My health is better. I can do 30 miles 
 per diem under this sun, without knocking up. Never- 
 theless the nerves are not yet right. One good sign is 
 that I am very anxious to finish my * Emilia ' ; and have 
 gentle prickings about other matters in my mind. 
 
 Meran is a glorious place. We look towards Italy. 
 The country is Uke a garden. The Adige flows on one
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 33 
 
 hand, the Passeyr on the other. We have a Schv/imm- 
 bad here. The water is too cold for swimming. It 
 
 stings. W • goes to it in the morning and remains 
 
 naked somewhere in the neighbourhood all day. Ad- 
 ventures we have had none. The old boy is very de- 
 sponding about his circumstances, and he won't buckle 
 up to brave them. I suppose he knows best, so I say 
 nothing. 
 
 My first sight of the Alps has raised odd feelings. 
 Here at last seems something more than earth, and 
 visible, if not tangible. They have the whiteness, the 
 silence, the beauty and mystery of thoughts seldom 
 unveiled within us, but which conquer Earth when once 
 they are. In fact they have made my creed tremble. — 
 Only for a time. They have merely dazzled me with a 
 group of symbols. Our great error has been (the error 
 of ail religion, as I fancy) to raise a spiritual system 
 in antagonism to Nature. What thougji yonder Alp 
 does touch the Heavens ? Is it a rebuke to us below ? 
 In you and in me there may be lofty virgin points, pure 
 
 from what we call fleshliness. And so forth. — W is 
 
 lost in astonishment at me because I don't look out for 
 a ' woman.' ' You 're a pote, and I can't think how a 
 pote can get on without one. I 'd go mad.' — Mrs. W. 
 is very kind to Arthur, and really in love with the Irish- 
 Corsican. They spoon terribly. Perhaps I am gettmg 
 old, for I don't envy them, though I feel a kind of empti- 
 ness — an uncared-for feeling. A good friendship would 
 satisfy me. — You made an impression on Lady Dufif. 
 She likes you and takes to you altogether. — How is it 
 the Austrians get beaten by the French ? A finer set 
 of men than the Austrian soldiers you can't see anywhere. 
 Their drill seems good. They don't expect war for 
 some months. I hear Benedek has left Verona for 
 Carlsbad. 
 
 VOL. I. — c
 
 34 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 Write to me, Poste Restante, JMilan, Lombardy, Italy, 
 and don't fast, there 's a dear fellow. — Your faithful. 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 RIiLAN, August 16, 1861. 
 
 My dear Maxse, — Behold a pretty picture, which is 
 to tell 3''0u I have been in Venice, which you know so 
 well, which is a dream and a seduction to the soul of 
 me. I wish you had been there with me. — Now, mark 
 the Campanile above, for you are to have it reproduced 
 one day m illustrious verse. There did I conceive an 
 Ode. — I have followed Bj^ron's and Shelley's footsteps 
 there (in Venice) on the Lido, Do you remember in 
 * JuHan and Maddalo,' where the two, looking towards 
 the Euganean hills, see the great beU of the Insane 
 Asylum swing in the sunset ? I found the exact spot. 
 I have seldom felt melancholy so strongly as when 
 standing there. You know I despise melanchol}^ but 
 the feeling came. I love both those poets ; and with 
 my heart given to them I felt as if I stood in a dead and 
 useless time. So are we played with sometimes ! At 
 that hour your heart was burstuig with a new passion, 
 and the past was as smoke flittmg away from a fired-off 
 old contemptible gun. Vv^ell, I walked the Lido every 
 day, and bathed with my httle man in the tepid Adriatic, 
 and floated through the streets in my gondola, and 
 received charming salutes from barred windows : from 
 one notabl}^ where a very pretty damsel, lost in languor, 
 hung with her loose-robed bosom against the iron, and 
 pressed amorously to see me pass, tiU she could no further : 
 I meantime issued order to Lorenzo, my gondolier, to 
 return, and lo, as I came slowly into view she as slowly 
 arranged her sweet shape to be seen decently, and so 
 stood, but half a pace in the recess, with one dear hand
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 35 
 
 on one shoulder, her head sHghtly lyuig on her neck, 
 her drooped eyehds mournfully seeming to say : ' No, 
 no ; never ! tho' I am d^dng to be wedded to that wish 
 of yours and would stake my soul I have divined it ! ' — 
 wasn't it charming ? This too, so mtensely human from 
 a figure vaporous, but half discernible ! 
 
 I have been alone with Arthur in Venice, which was a 
 
 blessing, for somehow or other dear old W isn't at 
 
 all the right sort of companion. He says he thinks it 's 
 his stomach, I tell him that it is not fair for a man 
 to throw his stomach in one's face. The fact is the 
 dear old boj^ (meanmg excellently) is irritable exceed- 
 ingly : tiffs twent}^ times a day, and now and then a sulk. 
 Then ensues reconcihation : ' Mardith ! I don't mind 
 saying I 'm sorry ! and ye can judge of me 'ffection for 
 ye when ye see I don't hes'tate to sacrifice me praide, 
 etc' He owns still he thinks me in the wrong, when 
 the next occasion recurs. You may imagine this sort of 
 schoolboy business is not to my taste. When one does 
 meet a woman, it 's better to have her in petticoats. — 
 Here (m IMilan) I met him again. He went last night to 
 see his mother on Lake Como, at the Villa d'Este. I go 
 to him to-morrow. Next daj^ I trust, homeward by 
 way of the Mont Cenis, to Paris. I shall rest in Paris 
 a day or two, according to the state of my funds. Will 
 you write to me there, Poste Restante, I want to know 
 where I can see you in London, for I have an immense 
 longing to wring j^our hand. I \'/ill accept a dinner. 
 That is to say, a dish of fish, an Ji^nglish steak, and no 
 wine. I am much better in health ; but, j'ou see, I have 
 been somewhat disappointed about the management of 
 Arthur. I have been able to get onlj'- one week's walk, 
 and the rest of the time the httle fellow has been on my 
 hands. But what a jolly boy and capital companion 
 he is ! Full of fun and observation, good temper and
 
 36 LETTERS OF GEORGE IMEREDITH 
 
 endurance. The tour has sown much fine stuff in him, 
 but I am anxious at last to have him home. As for me, 
 I beheve I shall now be in condition for labour of the 
 remunerative kind. The novelty has been worth the 
 money in all ways. Could I but afford to rest and look 
 on man for one year ! Non e possibile. — You must see 
 Arthur's Diary. He is at it now, at my elbow. 
 
 Yes ! those bleeding, tortured images by the wayside 
 were painful and became exasperating — almost as much 
 so as the sight of the crowds of white coats through the 
 whole of the Venetian territory. In Verona they have 
 a garrison of 45,000 men. The population numbers 
 G0,000. The soldiers have to keep to themselves, the 
 officers are cut, and nothing so miserable and menacing 
 can be fancied. Even the girls won't be spoken to. 
 I saw an amusing scene of a couple of officers after two, 
 who led them a terrible round and finally drew up at a 
 melon-seller's. There they began chattering, wouldn't 
 let Mr. Ober-heutenant get in a word ; suddenly they 
 turned round, fired a volley of contempt and virtuous 
 indignation and retired into the applauding crowd. 
 When Venus turns against Mars what shall the poor 
 devil do ? Better doff his casque. — Now about ' Tann- 
 hauser.' I think the review in the ' Times ' stupid. It 's 
 just a blow of the trumpet. The poem is a failure, and 
 the young men ought to have been told so. It fails, 
 because the central })oint (in action), the ' Battle,' is 
 absurdly weak, even to silliness : because the theme, 
 which is so glorious, is spoilt, in order to cry up and 
 preach a sort of cherubim chastity popular just now, 
 and which is not the real thing : because it has no char- 
 acter, even done in outline. It contains, I think, no 
 image, or scene, that the mmd clings to. I don't care 
 much for the passages you point out — ' a drooping hare- 
 bell ' is in the ' Princess.' The revelation of Venus ia
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 37 
 
 poor, matched with the subject. To my mmd the best 
 parts are the departure of the pilgrims, and the return, 
 especially that of the one bemg questioned. The filing 
 by of the procession reminds me of the main point in 
 V. Hugo's ballad ' Les Cymbahers du Roi.' On re- 
 reading the poem I am confirmed m a cloyed sensation 
 I fijst experienced. The aUiteration is really so persis- 
 tent that the ears feel as if they had been horribly 
 drummed on. Power of narrative, I see. Mimetic ]30wer 
 of a wonderful kind, and flow of verse, also extraordinary. 
 I am not touched by any new music m it. I do not find 
 any comprehension of human nature, or observation, or 
 sympathy with it. I perceive none of the subtleties, 
 deep but miobtrusive, that show that a mind has travelled. 
 Great windy phrases, and what I must term (for so they 
 hit my sense) encaustic imageries do not satisfy me any 
 longer, though I remember a period when they did. The 
 passage 
 
 ' Or shall I call you men or beasts,' 
 
 praised by the ' Times,' shows the Muse pufl-cheeked, and 
 Elizabeth ridiculous. The scene was managed in order 
 to bring her out. It does so with a vengeance. Don't 
 you see how ill in accordance with the Httle bit of idea 
 one gets of Elizabeth this is ? She may be vehement 
 without acting the virago. Such a creature would not 
 have commenced with invective : she might have heated 
 herself up to it : entreaty, self-al^andonment, unconscious 
 declarations of her love for the object of their wrath in 
 unmeasured praise of him, excuse of him, etc. ; then, 
 when her words seem not to be producing their effect, 
 then a fiery line, if you like. But how stagey is the 
 ' Or shall I call you, etc. ! ' And this is the thing that 
 attracts you ? 
 
 Somethmg better has done that. Well, 1 wiU tell you
 
 38 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 what I think. You know I wish very earnestly to see 
 you, a man made to understand and make happy any 
 pure, good woman, married to one. I don't thmli any 
 son owes his parents more than the conscientious assur- 
 ance that he has clearly thought over what he is about 
 to do (in such a matter) ; seeing that men are the only 
 possible judges in the case ; and that the stake is all 
 their own. To have found a suitable person, and to give 
 her up for anything on earth is like seeing a jewel on the 
 shore and rejecting it on account of the trouble of con- 
 veying it home. But do you strongly recognise the 
 jewel ? Have j^ou found her ? A boy can't, but a 
 man must reason, in these cases. You may know your 
 love from its power of persisting and bearmg delay. 
 Passion has not these powers. If your love of this 
 person is true and not one of your fancies, it wiU soon 
 light you clear enough. . . . And don't be hasty and 
 think you are trusting your mstinct by grasping suddenly 
 at the golden apple. Can you bear poverty for her ? 
 WiU she for you ? Can she, even if she would ? Think 
 whether you are risking it, and remember that very few 
 women bear it and retain their delicacy and charm. 
 Some do. Can you think her one of the chosen ? The 
 great difficulty is to be honest with ourselves. If there 
 comes a doubt, the wave of passion overwhelms it. Tr}'' 
 and hsten to j^our doubt. See whether you feel, not what 
 we caU love, but tenderness for her. Satisfy j^ourself 
 on this point. And then determine to wait. You can, 
 if your heart has conceived real tenderness. If not, 
 should you marry her ? You spealc of sccurmg her. 
 You may secure her person, but how can you be yet 
 sure of more ? If continually you fuid her worthier, 
 fix your mind to win her by the force of your love. Then 
 should you have that divine delight, I ask you whether 
 you can sec any earthly obstacle in your way 1 You
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE IMEREDITH 39 
 
 are on the highest pinnacles and may remain untouched, 
 whatever is said or done. You will have pains and aches 
 — agonies to go through. They serve to strengthen 
 you. — God bless you, my dear Maxse ! Beheve me your 
 faithful and affectionate George Meredith. 
 
 I shall be in Paris about the 21st or 22nd, or 23rd. 
 Please write vvhen you get this. 
 Did 5'ou get the Pome I sent ? 
 
 To Mrs. Janet Ross {from Arthur G. Meredith). 
 
 CopsHAM Cottage, Sept. 25, 1861. 
 
 My dear Janet, — I was very much pleased to receive 
 your letter but I am very sorry you are not well. Zillah 
 goes to school wdth me and I Hke it very much. Pat 
 a little while ago went into the water to fetch sticks, 
 but Jessy spoilt him by catching hold of his ear and 
 tried to make him dive. Jessy is a much better dog 
 than Pat. Our gardens are getting on very well I have 
 got a lot of peas for seed and some beetroot almost 
 ready to dig up. About three months ago I went on 
 the continent with my papa. I started from Dover to 
 Ostend and going in the harbour I saw some Belgian 
 peasants picking perywinkles ; they laughed at us and 
 had such rosy cheeks and I thought them very funny. 
 Then I had a long day in the train from Ostend to Cob- 
 lentz. In the morning I saw a steamer going to Mainz 
 and so we dressed and got in it. On each side of the 
 Rhine there are mountains that have old castles on 
 them where robber knights used to live, and there was 
 the Lurh rock, they fired a gun and there were three 
 echoes. In the morning the waiter at Mentz took me 
 upstairs to a high place and showed me a stork's nest 
 built in a chimney. I went from Mentz to Zurich, where
 
 40 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 the lake of Zurich was so clear that you could see to 
 the bottom of it. The next day I went up part of a 
 mountain and dined, and I saw the Alps at a distance ; 
 there was a crow which came hopping along and was 
 quite tame, but another boy teased it, and so it flew 
 away. 
 
 From Zurich I went to Munich and I crossed lake 
 Constance. Coming in the harbour I saw a statue of a 
 lion in the water. I stopped at Munich a day and at 
 twelve o'clock I heard a nice band. The Bavarian 
 soldiers dress is blue which looks very pretty. There 
 is a beautiful palace at Munich. I went into a beautiful 
 garden called the English garden were I saw some fire 
 flies which show a green light. From Munich I went 
 to Innsbruck were there was a church with bronze kings 
 and queens surrounding the Emperor Maximilian and 
 I saw the tomb of Andreas Hofer. I went up to some 
 high gardens and had a view of Innsbruck. From 
 Innsbruck I went to Laudeck were I caught some very 
 pretty butterflys from Laudeck I went to Meran were 
 there are castles. I went to schloss Labenberg and 
 Schloss Guin were there was a nice man and I bathed in 
 the Passier. From Meran I went to Verona and I went 
 to Venice were I was very happy. I went about in 
 gondolas in the canals and bathed at the Liedo the water 
 IS so hot that you can stopp in a long while. I dine at 
 tables d'hote and had my own bottle of wine, lots of 
 grapes ; and lemonade on the place St. Mark. I went 
 in the place of St. Mark were there were some pictures 
 I went from Venice to Milan and went into the great 
 cathedral from Milan I went to Paris, over the Mount 
 Cenis, I hked going over. At Paris I had breakfast at 
 cafes I went to the Champs Elysees I saw the monument 
 of Napoleon on which were the battles he fought. I went 
 in the Louve palace were there were some beautiful
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 41 
 
 Italian pictures. Then I went home. I remain my dear 
 Janet your affectionate friend, Artiiur G. Meredith. 
 
 Note in George Meredith's writing : — 
 
 This is entirely as you would wish it to be — the small 
 man's own, I bearing the stamp thereof. He will have 
 a lot more of it to tell you when he has you by the ear. 
 
 Written on the back of the foregoing letter : — 
 
 My dear good Janet, — Forgive me. I have been 
 going to write you an account of the Travels of self and 
 son ; but I am now so torn to pieces and hard at work 
 that I can't sit dowTi to anything. Your letter was based 
 on false intelligence, my dear. It was perfectly right 
 of you to take up the case as you did. I am glad you 
 Uke me well enough to do so. Be sure I would not miss 
 your friendship for much ; and would stoop my pride for 
 it, even if that stood in the way. As it is there is no 
 feeling of the sort. God bless you. I will write fuUy 
 in a few days. — I saw your father two or three days back. 
 He is looking as ever. In health I also am better. Arthur 
 is now at Weybridge seeing his mother daily. — Your ever 
 faithful and affectionate George M. 
 
 To a Friend, 
 
 ESHER. 
 
 ... As to the temptation, it was Eve's own doing, born 
 of champagne and the promptings of her blood. . . . She 
 is a well-meaning girl. Be kind to her. Do not grow 
 ironical. Forbear from satire at tender intervals. Make 
 her believe (she will so readily !) that she is never ridi- 
 culous, or that you never see it, which is a subtler flattery ; 
 for woman is cute, and Avould rather that you should 
 have the bandage on your eyes than that she should.
 
 42 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 CopsHAM, Oct. 19, 1861. 
 
 My dear Hardman, — How can I thank you for the 
 trouble you take ! Your friend Holroyd's opinion is 
 worth having and will be serviceable. I received the 
 Cartes-de-visite on the day I was quitting Copsham for 
 Suffolk, the ' Giles ' of Counties I always think, where I 
 Uved in a dumpling state for a week, ^\1len I entered 
 the world again I found that one had quitted it who bore 
 my name : and this filled my mind wdth melancholy 
 recollections which I rarely give way to. My dear boy, 
 fortunately, will not feel the blow, as he might have under 
 different circumstances. I tell you tliis to excuse myself 
 for my silence. I will come to-morrow, if you please. 
 I have an engagement in town to-night, which necessi- 
 tates a tail coat, so do not be frightened when you see 
 me, nor stand in awe, nor strive to emulate. I hope for 
 music for which I have a great longing. 
 
 I am engaged getting ready a volume of poems. If 
 I had a piano, and my rooms here were only a little bigger 
 than yourself and Mrs. Hardman, I would have the 
 audacity to ask you to come. The dread of my soul is 
 the evening ! How shall a poor guest be amused here ? 
 Yet is November fine : a great observer, old, shrewd, un- 
 erring, said to me once — ' I always take my holidaj^s in 
 November, being sure of a greater number of clear, fine 
 days than in any other month.' I corroborate. Tliink 
 over this and communicate with me. To Mrs. Hardman 
 I could say that in November, she being well wrapped up, 
 might even enjoy the late autumn sunshine. 
 
 William Hardman, a hamster, subsequently chairman of 
 Surrey quarter-sessions, and later editor of the Morning 
 Post, had lately taken for one summer a country cottage 
 near Esher. Widely read, with a large circle of friends, a
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 43 
 
 cheerful outlook upon the world, and a keen sense of humour, 
 mated, moreover, with a lady in whom personal beauty was 
 combined with musical tastes and rare personal charm, his 
 hospitality was a welcome social tonic, and close hfelong 
 friendsliip resulted. 
 
 To William Hardman. „ ^ ,„„, 
 
 COPSHAM, ESHER, 18G1. 
 
 My dear HARDMAif, — Most certainly I will come with 
 very great pleasure ; bringing my bag to show that I am 
 in earnest about a bed. By the way, do you know, it 
 is dangerous to ask poets to sleep at a house ? You ask 
 them to dine, never to sleep, for if you do so it means 
 they are only to be got rid of by a ruse. Numerous cases 
 might be cited. How, if I tax your ingenuity ? 
 
 I see ' The Silver Cord ' ^ reviewed in the ' Saturday ' 
 and, as I think, fairly. But it is a question whetiier 
 Brooks is still young enough to feel that. Please do not 
 spare him yourself, but put him on his mettle, and his 
 next work will be capital. 
 
 I am exceedingly sorry to lose you both. I can only 
 
 hope that you will, whenever you think proper, come 
 
 to this humble place as frankly as I accept the opening 
 
 to your 
 
 HOSPITABLE TOWN MANSION! 
 
 6 o'clock is an excellent hour, and I have just enough 
 faith in my appetite and honour to say that I will be 
 punctual. 
 
 My little man says he hopes he shall see you and 
 Mrs. Hardman here soon. He also mutters something 
 about ' Pantomime ' which I cannot comprehend. We 
 both send greetings to Mrs. Hardman, whose behaviour 
 in the boat, let me add, has proved her to be a companion 
 of men. 
 
 1 The Silver Chord, by C. W. Shirley Brooks (London, Bradbury and 
 Evans, 1861).
 
 44 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 To the Rev. Augustus Jesso'p'p?- 
 
 CopsHAM Cottage, Eshek, 
 SURKEY, Nov. 13, 1861. 
 
 My dear Sir, — I have received your letter. Let mo 
 tell you at once that I feel it to be most generous, and 
 I should be glad to think I deserved such hearty praise 
 as fully as I do the censure. But on that point, I must 
 be allowed to give you two or three words of explanation. 
 Apropos of the ' Rosanna,' it was written from the 
 Tyrol, to a friend, and was simply a piece of friendly play. 
 Which should not have been published, you add ? Per- 
 haps not, but it pleased my friend, and the short passage 
 of description was a literal transcript of the scene. More- 
 over, though the style is open to blame, there is an idea 
 running through the verses, which, while I was rallying 
 my friend, I conceived to have some point for a larger 
 audience. 
 
 It is true that I have fallen from what I once hoped to 
 do. The fault is hardly mine. Do you know Vexation, 
 the slayer ? There is very little poetry to be done when 
 one is severely and incessantly harassed. My nerves 
 have given way under it, and it is only by great care 
 and attention to the directions of my doctor, that I 
 can work at all. — I have now more leisure and somewhat 
 better health, and the result is, that I have gone back 
 partially to my old mistress. 
 
 As to my love for the Muse, I really think that is 
 earnest enough. I have all my life done battle m her 
 behalf, and should, at one time, have felt no blessing to 
 be equal to the liberty to serve her. Praise sings strangely 
 in my cars. I have been virtually propelled into a 
 practical turn, by the lack of encouragement for any 
 
 ^ Iloadmastfir of King Edward vi. Grammar School, Norwich ; 
 later, Ctuion of Norwich. Author of Our. Oencration of a Norfolk House, 
 Trials of a Country Parson, etc.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 45 
 
 other save practical work. 1 have no doubt that it has 
 done me good, though the pleasure your letter gives me, 
 and let me sa}^ also the impetus, is a, proof that I should 
 have flourished better under a less rigorous system. 
 
 If you do me the favour to look at ' Once a Week ' 
 during the next two months, you will see some poems of 
 mine that are of another cast. The ' Cassandra,' you 
 will see, is as severe in rhythm as you could wish. But 
 one result of my hard education since the publication of 
 my boy's book in '51 (those poems were written before I 
 v/as twenty) has been that I rarely write save from the 
 suggestion of something actually observed. I mean, that 
 T rarely write verse. Thus m_y Jugglers, Beggars, etc., 
 1 have met on the road, and have idealized but slightly. 
 I desire to strike the poetic spark out of absolute human 
 clay. And in doing so I ha,ve the fancy that I do solid 
 work — better than a carol in mid air. Note the ' Old 
 Chartist,' and the ' Patriot Engineer,' that will also 
 appear in ' Once a Week.' They may not please you, 
 but I think 3^ou will admit that they have a truth con- 
 densed in them. They are flints perhaps, and not 
 flowers. Well, I think of publishing a volume of Poems 
 in the begiiming of '62, and I will bring as many flowers 
 to it as I can. It may be, that in a year or two I shall 
 find time for a full sustamed Song. Of course I do not 
 think of binding down the Muse to the study of facts. 
 That is but a part of her work. The worst is, that, having 
 taken to prose delineations of character and hfe, one's 
 affections are divided. I have now a prose damsel cr3'ing 
 out to me to have her history completed ; and the 
 creatures of a novel are bubbhng up ; and in truth, being 
 a servant of the pubhc, I must v/ait till my master com- 
 mands before I take seriously to singing. 
 
 This is a long letter for a man to write about himself ; 
 and it is the first time I have been guilty of such a thing.
 
 46 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 It has not been possible for me to reply to you in any 
 other way. 
 
 I will conclude by saying that, whenever you are in 
 London, if you are to visit me, it will give me great 
 pleasure to welcome you. I must warn you that my 
 cottage has very much the appearance of a natural pro- 
 duct of the common on which it stands, ' far from resort 
 of men.' But I can give you a bed and good cookery, 
 of its kind. In the winter it will be difficult to tempt 
 friends to meet you. In the summer they find the place 
 pleasant, and believe me, I shall hold it an honour if 
 you will take rank among them. 
 
 To Mrs. Janet Ross. 
 
 COPSHAM, ESHER, Nov. 19, 1861. 
 
 My very dear Janet, — I plead ill health : I plead 
 vexation, occupation, general insuificiency : I plead 
 absence from home, absence from my proper mind, and 
 a multitude of things : and now I am going to pay my 
 debts. But are not my letters really three single gentle- 
 men rolled into one ? This shall count for ten. Now 
 the truth is that my Janet is, by her poet at least, much 
 more thought of when he doesn't write to her than when 
 he does. Vulgar comparisons being always the most 
 pungent, I will say, Lo, the Epicurean to whom his feast 
 is still in prospect : he dreams of it : it rises before him 
 in a thousand hues and salutes his nostril with scents 
 heavenly. He dines. 'Tis gone. 'Tis in the past and with 
 
 it go his rosy visions. — Your P. G., to wit H , I saw 
 
 him the other day, and shall probably dine with him on 
 Thursday — Quoth I, at a period of our interview — Have 
 
 you, H replied duly to the fair Alexandrienne ? 
 
 Then w^ent he through much pantomime, during my just 
 reproaches, and took your address — which may be an
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 47 
 
 excellent P. G. performance, and no more. You will see. 
 He is in new chambers full of pictures, Old Masters, we 
 hear. For a fine putative Leonardo he disbursed recently 
 £400. And Sir Charles Eastlake said — never mind what. 
 Then, too, a Masaecio for which he gave £19. 7s. 6|d., 
 was Exhibited at the British Institution and the papers 
 took note of nothing else. And Sir Charles Eastlake said 
 — as before. 
 
 H is a good old boy. He has a pleasant way of 
 
 being inquisitive and has already informed me, quite 
 agreeably, that I am a gentleman, though I may not have 
 been born one. Some men are alwa37s shooting about 
 you like May files in little quick darts, to see how near 
 you they may come. The best thing is to smile and 
 enjoy the fun of it. I confess a private preference for 
 friends who are not thus afflicted, and get the secret 
 by instinct. As my Janet does, for instance. — The dear 
 indifferent Bart. I meet occasionally ; in the train, or 
 on lonely Celia ; looking as if he bore with life, but 
 had not the exact reason for his philosophy handy. He 
 speaks out hke a man concerning your husband, and I 
 should wish every husband to have a father-in-law who 
 appreciates him as heartily. Your Motlier's Diary will 
 not, I suppose, reach you before this letter. On the 
 whole it is very hopeful. Secondly, it is immensely 
 amusing, and shows her fine manly nature admirably. 
 what a gallant soul she is ! and how very much I love 
 her ! I had only time during the passage of the train 
 to read it, and couldn't get to the end. As yet the voyage 
 has wrought no cure : but the change and the sea-breeze 
 and shaking have done good and produced favourable 
 excitement. I have new friends whom I like, and don't 
 object to call by name. A Mr. and Mrs. Hardman I met 
 in Esher this autumn. She is very pleasant, and is one 
 of the rare women who don't find it necessary to fluster
 
 48 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 their li^ex under your nose eternally, in order to make 
 you like them. I gave her private's rank in Janet's 
 Amazonian regiment, with chances of promotion. Also 
 he is a nice follow : a barrister who does photographs ; 
 of bis friends principally. On the other hand, let me 
 say, that I went (thinking of you solely) and was done 
 the other day, and will send a copy to you immediately. 
 It looks absurd ; but I must conclude it faithful. . . . 
 
 You have had particulars of our travels ; at least, 
 items. Munich is a glorious city to pass through, and 
 the Tyrol a wonderful country for the same. I had, 
 the truth is, a miserable walking companion. He 
 couldn't walk in the sun : he wouldn't walk after 
 its setting : the rain he shunned as if he had been 
 dog-bitten — in fact, he was a double-knapsack on 
 my back. Certainly the heat was tremendous. The 
 Tyrolean men are the handsomest I have seen : the 
 women the ughest. The Alps gave me shudderings of 
 delight ; but I did not see enough of them, and I can't 
 bear being coop'd long in those mountain-guarded 
 valleys ; so I shot through them in two weeks, and 
 then saw Italy for the first time, emerging by Adige, 
 which the Austrians are fortifying continuaUy. Verona 
 Ues just under the Alps, and is now less a City than a 
 fortress. You see nothing but white coats — who form 
 the majority of the inhabitants. The little man ^ asked 
 innumerable questions about the amphitheatre, and the 
 gladiators, the shows, and the Roman customs. Thence 
 
 to Venice, where he and I were alone — W parting for 
 
 Como and his mother. Our life in Venice was charming. 
 Only I had to watch the dear boy like tutor, governess, 
 courier, in one ; and couldn't get much to the pictures ; 
 for there was no use in victimising liim and dragging him 
 to see them, and I couldn't quit him at all. We hired a 
 
 * Axthur.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 49 
 
 Gondola and floated through the streets at night, or out 
 to Malamocco to get the fresh breeze. A fresh Levant 
 wind favoured our visit. To the Lido we went every 
 morning : Arthur and I bathing — behold us for a solid 
 hour under enormous straw-hats floating and splashing 
 in the dehcious Adriatic. The difficulty of getting him 
 out of it was great. ' Papa, what a dear old place this 
 is ! We won't go, will we ? ' I met and made acquaint- 
 ance with some nice fellows (Austrians) in the water. 
 The Italian fish are not to be found where they are. 
 Venice looks draped, and wears her widow's weeds osten- 
 tatiously. Our Gondolier, Lorenzo, declared that he 
 had seen Lor Birren, when a boy. ' Palazzo Mocenigo, 
 Signer Ecco ! ' On the Lido one thinks sadly of Byron 
 and Shelley. I found the spot Shelley speaks of in 
 ' JuHan and Maddalo,' where he saw the Vicenza hills 
 in the sunset through the bell-tower where the lunatics 
 abide, on an island. Of the glories of St. Mark's who 
 shall speak. It is poetry, my dear, and will be expressed 
 in no other way. In Venice I learnt to love Giorgione, 
 Titian and Paul Veronese. I cannot rank Tintoret with 
 them (Ruskin puts him highest) though his single work 
 shows greater grasp and stretch of soul. Viermese 
 crinoline and the tj^rant white coat do their best to destroy 
 the beauties of St. Mark's. Charming are the Venetian 
 women ! They have a gracious walk and all the manner 
 one dreams of as befitting them. Should one smile on 
 a Whitecoat, she has the prospect of a patriotic dagger 
 smiting her fair bosom, and so she does not ; though 
 the Austrians are fine men, and red-hot exclusiveness 
 for an abstract idea sits not easy on any ladies of any 
 land for longer than — say a fortnight. Consequently 
 Vienna sends Crinoline to her children. I made acquaint- 
 ance with a tough Baronno, who had brought two 
 daughters of immense circle ! How quietly the pretty 
 
 VOL. I. — D
 
 50 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 Venetians eyed them ! The square of St. Mark's is the 
 great parade. — The weather was fiery : but we had no 
 mosquitos. — jNIilan is, for heat, next door to Pande- 
 monium. The view from the Cathedral you have heard 
 
 of. I went to Como to see W , who was with II 
 
 Principessa. She received me affably at the Villa — 
 Villa Ciani, pres d'Este. She has a handsome daughter, 
 fair as a highborn Enghsh girl, engaged then, and since 
 
 married, to General T . Madame la Princesse will 
 
 be Mdme. la Princesse, and desires that she should hear 
 it too, as I quickly discovered. I grew in favour. She 
 has no difficulty in swallowing a compliment. Quantity 
 is all she asks for. This is entre nous, for she entertained 
 me, and indeed I was vastly entertained. Look for it 
 all in a future chapter. A good gross compliment, 
 fluently delivered, I find to be the best adapted to a 
 Frenchwoman's taste. If you hesitate, the flavour 
 evaporates for them. Be glib, and you may say what 
 you please. Should you in addition, be neat, and ready, 
 they wdll fall in love with you. Mademoiselle the fiancee, 
 perceived that I was taken with her before I had felt it. 
 Hence she distinguished me, till the General came. It 's 
 a real love match. She wouldn't sing then — couldn't. 
 Nor did I press it : for Oh ! — She sings in the rapid 
 French style : all from the throat : and such a hard 
 metallic Giordigianic rang over Como's water as sure 
 our dear old Muddy Mole never knew of ! Young 
 
 Captain G , T 's aide-de-camp, and I, then fell 
 
 upon the Princess. 
 
 King Victor gave T some royal Tokay, which he 
 
 brought to the Villa, and we were merry over it. I like 
 
 G , a very gallant fellow : only 24, and served through 
 
 the Hungarian revolt, and all the Garibaldian campaign. 
 
 Before dinner we all bathed in Como, ladies and gentle- 
 men ensemble. Really pleasant and pastoral ! Mdlle,
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 51 
 
 swims capitally : rides and drives well ; and will make 
 a good hero's wife. She scorns the English for their bad 
 manners, she told me. The Emperor allows her £1000 a 
 year : her mother gets £2000. Vive FEmpereur ! . . . 
 
 Thence over the Mont Cenis to Paris. The little man 
 was in raptures at the thought of crossing the Alps. He 
 would barely close his eyes. I had him in my arms in the 
 coupe of the diligence, and then ho was starting up 
 every instant, shouting, and crowing till dawn ; when 
 I had no chance of getting him to sleep. When we 
 reached Macon at night I put him to bed, and gave him 
 a httle weak cofifee in bed. He slept hke a top till morn- 
 ing : when to Paris, which you know. Arthur was im- 
 patient to be home, and cared little for Paris. I gave 
 him a dinner at Vefours and at the Trois Freres. He 
 appreciated it : but longed for England. Paris is de- 
 lightful ! Under the circumstances, with a remonstrating 
 little man, there was nothing for it but to return hastily. 
 Thank Heaven ! I got him home safe — a little worn : 
 but he soon got over that and has improved his young 
 mind considerably. The journey did me good. I am 
 much stronger, and am beginning to be able to work 
 much better, but have to be careful. 
 
 I have left Emilia Belloni untouched for months ; and 
 my novel is where it was. En revanche, I am busy on 
 Poems. I think it possible I shall publish a small volume 
 in the winter, after Christmas. I have had letters from 
 strangers, begging me to do so. One man, headmaster 
 of a Grammar School, ••• writes a six-page letter of remon- 
 strance and eulogy, concluding, ' I have often said I 
 wished to see 3 men before I died : Humboldt, who is 
 
 gone: Bunsen, whom I had the fortune to meet: and !' 
 
 Guess, my dear ! He says that the ' Enchantress ' scene 
 in Rd. Feverel made him ill for 24 hours : and that he and 
 
 ^ Augustus Jessopp.
 
 52 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 his friends (Cambridge men) rank me next to Tennj^son 
 in poetic power : and so forth. I tell Janet this, because 
 I know she will like to hear it. I listen to it merely as 
 a sign that I am begimiing to be a httle known. The 
 man praises my first book of verse, which I would have 
 forgotten. ' Grandfather Bridgeman ' — ^an idyll : true 
 to Enghsh life, and containing a war episode, approved 
 bj^ friends who have heard it ; ' The Old Chartist,' ' The 
 Patriot Engineer,' ' Phantasy,' ' A Love-Match,' and 
 ' Cassandra ' (about to be illustrated by Rossetti), are 
 among my later pieces. When these are out I shall set 
 myself seriously to work on a long poem. For if I have 
 the power to do it, why should I not ? I am engaged in 
 extra pot-boiling work, which enables me to do this ; 
 and besides I can sell my poems. "What do you think ? 
 Speak on this point. 
 
 My housekeeper, good Miss Grange, has just had 
 an ojffer from Claremont to go and attend the Prmcess 
 Fran9oise : and I am afraid she '11 go ; which will be a 
 complete upset here : for she 's an invaluable person : 
 excellent temper, spotless principles, indefatigable worker, 
 no sex : thoughtful, prudent, and sensible. Where shall 
 I get such another ? Of course I can't advise her to 
 stay. It 's a terrible bother, — ^They have been huntmg 
 a little ; but the Prince de Joinville has not yet returned 
 from America, so not much is done in that way. What 
 do you think of the Comte de Paris' step ? I can excuse 
 him better than his adviser. He was courteous and kind 
 to me here (Maxsc introduced me), and so I wish him 
 well — and therefore weU out of it. — Let me hear what 
 you think of Buckle, who has become a topic. 
 
 My dear ! the well is not empty, but the bucket kicks. 
 I have some things to do before I speak of them ; but I 
 dare say I shall see you before I offer you your wedding 
 preserit, I hate offering mere jewelry. I have thought
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 63 
 
 of half a dozen things : but your mother's ilhiess and 
 inabiUty to go to London prevented the Ukehest. I have 
 sent books, etc. to Sir Alec to forward when he can. Be 
 sure my heart is very faithfully with you. You know 
 I approve of the man you have chosen so much that I 
 pardon him his mortal ofiFence, — Talking of that, Alice, 
 
 who was P , writes to her father from S. of France, 
 
 that she ' thinks marriage a fine institution, and wonders 
 who invented it." I heard this repeated before some 
 men, who thought it fast, and clever, — May all good be 
 with you and j^ours ! 
 
 Frederick Chapman is just married. — Your book is 
 being well reviewed. I hope Lewis will do it in the 
 * Saturday.' 
 
 To a Friend engaged to he married. 
 
 COPSHAM, ESHER, SURREY, 1881. 
 
 My dear , ' Tannhauser ' was in yesterday's 
 
 * Post,' and exceedingly well done. I read the extracts 
 also. They produce on me the effect, after three hnes, of 
 too much sugar on the palate : something rich, certainly, 
 but of a base richness. I don't agree with you that they 
 have brought Venus sensibly to the reader at all, tho' 
 it 's fair to say that with Elizabeth it is less so than Venus. 
 The former is a prim good miss, a shrew when in a passion ; 
 she quite justifies (to me) Tannhauser's choice of the 
 dear voluptuous Goddess whom they call such naughty 
 names, and who, I begin to tliink, is the favourite daughter 
 of Mother Earth. 
 
 This to you, who are in love, and well in love ! — Do 
 you know, I have seldom seen anything with so much 
 pleasure as your honest, modest, manly love for her. 
 You don't tire me in teUing me about it, and of 3'our
 
 54 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 feelings, and your thoughts about her. The fonder and 
 the deeper your emotions reach, the more I see and 
 admire the large nature you are gifted with. 
 
 I trust it may be that Heaven brings the other half of 
 her. She is, I am sure, a very sv/eet person : but how 
 strong she is, or can be made, my instinct does not fathom. 
 I am so miserably constituted now that I can't love a 
 woman if I do not feel her soul, and that there is force 
 therein to wrestle with the facts of life (called the Angel 
 of the Lord). But I envy those who are attracted by 
 what is given to the eye ; — yes, even those who have a 
 special taste for woman flesh, and this or that particular 
 Mttle tit-bit — I envy them ! It lasts not beyond an 
 hour with me. 
 
 Happy you with aU the colour of Ufe about you ! 
 Has she principle ? Has she any sense of responsibility ? 
 Has she courage ? Enough that you love her. I believe 
 that this plan of taking a woman on the faith of a mighty 
 wish for her, is the best, and the safest wa}'' to find the 
 jewel we are all in search of. As to love ' revealing ' 
 all the qualities in one great flash — do you beheve it 
 even in your present state ? Still of so fair and exquisite 
 a person it is just to augur hopefully ; and when one 
 comes to read her face, surely that is a book with plates 
 of virgin silver. Well ! of her face I will tell you, without 
 trying to make you too happy, that I don't know any face 
 the memory of which leaves with me the unique im- 
 pression of music so completely. There is that softness 
 in the cui'ves, and purity of look, which move like music 
 in my mind. 
 
 As to her singing quahtics, that is another matter, 
 and really I had forgotten. But on coming to consider 
 this, there 's something right in one — a woman — who 
 knows her capabihties to be not brilliant, sitting down 
 to do her duty at the piano to pass the evening properly.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 55 
 
 Some fair ones would have declined resolutely. For my 
 part I like simple, gentle, unpretending songs, and shall 
 be always glad of the privilege of hearing them. 
 
 Health somewhat better. Working on pomes. You 
 will find some alterations, much for the better, I 
 think. 
 
 Rossetti admires your beloved, tho' she has not green 
 eyes and carrots ; which, I tell him, astonishes me. 
 
 He sent me a book of MSS. original poetry the other day, 
 and very fuie are some of the things in it. He is a poet, 
 without doubt. He would please you more than I do, 
 or can, for he deals with essential poetry, and is not wild, 
 and bluff, and coarse ; but rich, refined, royal-robed ! 
 Swinburne read me the other day his French novel * La 
 Fille du Pohceman ' : the funniest rampingest satire on 
 French novelists deahng with Enghsh themes that you 
 can imagme. One chapter, ' Ce qui pent se passer 
 dans un Cab Safety,' where Lord Whitestick, Bishop of 
 Londres, ravishes the heroine, is quite marvellous. But 
 he is not subtle ; and I don't see any internal centre 
 from which springs any tiling that he does. He will 
 make a great name, but whether he is to distinguish 
 himself solidly as an Artist, I would not willmgly prog- 
 nosticate. 
 
 Rossetti is going to illustrate my Cassandra, which 
 pome has taken his heart. 
 
 I am obliged to make money as I can, to meet 
 these new claims on me, and so all my pieces must be 
 pubHshed before they 're collected. Your name, you 
 know, may bo withheld from the Dedication then if 
 you please.
 
 66 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 EsHER, Nov. 25, 1861. 
 
 My dear Hardman, — Stop ! What do you mean by 
 smoking | a dozen cigars of the Holy Man in solitary 
 enjoyment. Give mito thy brother a chance of con- 
 version, even upon Friday evening next. And wOI you 
 have my glove in Gordon Street ? 'Twill save me 2s., 
 which is, to a poet, no mean sum. I suppose Mrs. Hard- 
 man has gone. I hope she will not have trouble. When 
 she returns, may Copsham hail you both ! We have all 
 weathers here. I am at my Pomes. 
 
 PS. — Did not the telegram read as if the Northerners 
 had got another licking ? 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 Copsham, Esher, 
 
 My dear Maxse, — You knew how glad it would make 
 me to hear the good news, and I thank you for making 
 me feel that she does not take you away from those who 
 love you. I don't think there will be a war. I don't 
 even think that the withdrawal of our Ambassador would 
 give the signal for one. In any case there can be no 
 reason why you should go. Dismiss the notion. A war 
 with France would tax all the energies of this country. 
 AU would have to serve. ... So be married quickly to 
 that dear and sweet person who is to make you happy, 
 I doubt not. I look at her and should envy you, if I 
 did not feel for her through your heart. — I mean the 
 photograph, which I prize. — De Stendhal I have had 
 to send to Paris for. You will have ' L'Amour ' in a 
 week. I told them (Hachette) to send it to you, from 
 me. Write as often as you can spare time. Give her 
 my kindest salute and know me, your loving 
 
 George M.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 57 
 
 I have done a great deal of the ' Love-Match.' Ros- 
 setti says it 's my best. I contrast it mentally with 
 yours, which is so very much better ! 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 London, 1861. 
 
 My dear Maxse, — I wiU come. So shall the little 
 man. I hate wedding-breakfasts, which make one take 
 wine and eat I don't know what at unholy seasons of 
 the day, and are such a stupid exhibition of the couple. 
 
 Tell me when you think it may take place, that I may 
 keep all clear for that day. I 'm sure you 're going to 
 be happy, and I 'm like Keats and the nightingale — 
 ' happy in your happiness.' — I wonder, now, whether any 
 nice woman will ever look on me ? — I certainly begin to 
 feel new life. Also a power of work, which means money. 
 There is evidently great folly kindling in me. All the 
 effect of example ! 
 
 I have matters in hand, which you will like, I think. 
 They won't drag you down to the Roadside and the 
 haunts of vagabonds ! 
 
 How do you like de Stendhal ? L'Amour ought not 
 to be dissected, and indeed can't be. For when we 've 
 killed it with this object, the spirit flies, and then where 
 is L'Amour ? StiU I think de Stendhal very subtle and 
 observant. He goes over ground that I know. Let me 
 hear. — I bow to your lovely bride. The photograph is 
 not just to her. All blessings on you both ! — Your 
 loving, George M. 
 
 To the Rev. Augustus Jessopp. 
 
 CopsHAM Cottage, EsnEB, Nov. 27. 
 My dear Sir, — I know Souvestre tolerably well, and 
 have not hitherto cared much about him. Some of his
 
 58 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 Breton Sketches I have found repulsive. But I thank 
 you for your edition, which has been forwarded to me in 
 your name, and I will read the story you indicate. 
 
 As I said, my cottage here is of the very humblest 
 kind : so much so that I hesitate to ask ladies to come 
 to it, though there are some who do me that honour. You 
 will find me about as plain a man as you could meet. I 
 do not know many literary men myself : those I do know 
 are among the best : and they are not guilty of over- 
 bearing briUiancy at all : — unless, haply, one should be 
 conscious of a sucking Boswell at the elbow, which is a 
 rare case, and is possibly seductive. The general feeling 
 is, that it is best to let ' good things ' come as they may, 
 and thus the best point of breeding attained : all have 
 even chance, and one man does not draw a reputation at 
 the expense of the others. Believe me, I have as great 
 a respect for a good scholar, as you have for a man who 
 writes books. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 CopsHAJi, Dec. 17, 1861. 
 
 Dear Hardman, — Rossetti talks of meeting good 
 fellows on Thursday evening. Therefore, do not take 
 stalls anywhere or make engagements till you are cock- 
 sure you would not rather go to the artists. It has 
 struck me that Schubert meant that words should be 
 affixed to the Introduction to the Addio. K moment's 
 reflection supphes them, e.g. 
 
 tum tum tum turn de turn measure. 
 
 Don't you see it ? With this warning, you and I and 
 many a poor devil might have been on our guard. Per- 
 haps safe ! which to contemplate is wondrous. At any
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 59 
 
 rate, I think our sex ought to demand to have it sung as 
 a piece of preUminarj^ fair play. — Your faithful 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To the Rev. Augustus Jessopp. 
 
 CopsH.ui Cottage 
 Dec. 20, 1861. 
 
 My dear Sir, — How happy you that have a Pallas ! 
 I will not envy you. I will hope that she also will visit 
 me in the flesh. She is not supposed to visit poets in the 
 spirit. 
 
 Apropos of her poetical counsel, is she adapting her 
 wisdom to the mind of the British matron, and of the 
 snuffling morahst so powerful among us 1 Does she know 
 that my literarj^ reputation is tabooed as worse than 
 Ubertine in certain virtuous Societies ? . . . that there 
 have been meetings to banish me from book-clubs ? 
 And that Pater famihas has given Mr. Mudie a vers' 
 large bit of his petticoated mind concerning me ? — These 
 are matters to be thought over. In the way of Art I 
 never stop to consider what is admissible to the narrow 
 minds of the dra\sdng-room. But is it well to call up 
 what is marked for obhvion ? Isn't it a sort of chal- 
 lenge ; and an umiecessary one ? 
 
 I think I will not pubHsh in MacmiHan, seeing that 
 my volume is shortly to appear. I have had a suggestion 
 to that effect, once or twice, from a brother-in-law of 
 Macmillan's. 
 
 I can only regret that the weather was so bad when 
 you were with me, and trust it will be brighter v/hen 
 you next do me the favour to com.e. — Your faithful 
 
 George Meredith.
 
 60 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 LoNDOX, Jan. 1862. 
 
 My dear ]\Iaxse, — I send you a portion of proofs of 
 the Tragedy of Modem Love. There are wantmg to 
 complete it, 13 more sonnets. 
 
 Please read, and let me have the honest judgment. 
 "When done with, return. This poem will come in the 
 middle of the book. 
 
 I called on Borthwick ^ to-day, but could not see him. 
 I shall call again to-day, if possible. If not, next week. 
 
 I say, you 'U review my Poems in the M. Post ? You 
 may flog me, too, if the prompting comes to do it. 
 
 I suppose the book will be out in six weeks. — Who 
 was right about the Yankees ? 
 
 How are you, my dear fellow ? I feel rather anxious 
 to know, and but that I 'm in such a mess and might 
 stumble across some of your people, I would call. 
 
 By the way, tell me, do army men — ensigns, fight in 
 undress uniform ? Did any at Inkermann ? Or is the 
 fuU dress de rigueur ? — Your faithful 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 Jan. 8, 1862. 
 
 My dear Hard:man, — Again cruel Fate has deferred 
 the junction of our loving couple. He has got her cold ; 
 * through sympathy,' ho says. They communicate their 
 tender impressions in sneezes. Morris, you may re- 
 member, sings of 'Two red roses across the Moon,' but 
 seems to think that two red noses across a honey- 
 moon would spoil the lustre of the orb. He may be right. 
 On purely material grounds, and apart from sentiment, 
 1 should say that where a sneeze is to be apprehended 
 
 ' Algernon Borthwick — later Lord GloncsU, and owner of the 
 Morning Post.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 61 
 
 it is better to hold back. Picture it to yourself ! It 
 is a very butchering of Cupid. I presume you come on 
 Saturday. I had arranged for the Virtues to lunch here, 
 and for us to walk back with them and dine, this Saturday. 
 It may be arranged a fortnight subsequently. . , . 
 
 Sons have been over to Oatlands. His love is sent to 
 NeUie : but just at present I think she must consent 
 to share it with Miss V. who is in the ascendant. 
 
 Jessopp comes next week. He has asked me whether 
 I taboo tobacco ? Tore God ! This is of noble augury ! 
 Wliat say you ? 
 
 To Mrs. Janet Ross. 
 
 CoPSHAJVi Cottage, 
 EsHEE, Feb. 15, 1862. 
 
 My dear Janet, — ^You come in April. You are even 
 now packing and preparing, and your heart is bounding 
 for England. So I will hope the best of you, my dear 
 child, though your letters have saddened me and I see 
 that your physical condition is lowered. I never liked 
 the climate for j^ou, though I perfectly approved of the 
 husband. After all, it 's merely a probation, not a settle- 
 ment. There has been little hunting here this whiter 
 owing to the absence of the Princess of Orleans. The 
 weather is good for it ; the frosts are short, and the 
 ground soft and wet, and not too much so. — Haven't 
 you heard from the P.G. A'et ? He said he would write, 
 and abused his P.G. reputation, but I always have sus- 
 pected him to have something of a woman's nature, 
 id est : he must see a body to be with a body. Now, 
 you can't say that of me ! What do you think (as the 
 proof the other way) ? I was walking out with Hard- 
 man (the man being absent from his wife), and I com- 
 menced ' la — la la — la ' and so on, cndhig ' la —
 
 62 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 la — ^la — ti — to — te ! ' in my fine voice, when he cried 
 ' Halloa ! ' and I meekly responded ' That 's my spooney 
 song.' ' And it 's mine ! ' qiioth he. ' The song that 
 always made me sentimental/ said I. ' The song that 
 bowled me over/ said he. I told him with a yawn (noble 
 manhood's mask for a sigh), that I had written words 
 to it. He and his wife petition for them. So, please, to 
 spare me from having to write fresh ones, send me, if you 
 have them, a copy of my lines to Schubert's Adieu. If 
 you have any objection don't do it. 
 
 Maxse is not the man you saw with me in Esher. That 
 was Fitzgerald. Maxso is quite a different fellow. He 
 performed the celebrated ride m the Crimea, as Lord 
 Lyons' aide-de-camp ! . . . By the way, I write for the 
 * Morning Post ' now at odd hours, which pays your poet. 
 And I 've a volume of poems coming out in three weeks : 
 but I won't send the volume. You shall have it when 
 you come. Jessopp, the man I spoke of as lilving my 
 works, has been here — did I tell you ? He begged to be 
 allowed to educate Arthur at his own expense, and under 
 his OAvn supervision. The kindness was great, but I 
 could not let him be at the charge while I have power to 
 work, you know. I like him very much and so would 
 you. Can you meet him in Paris ? Nothing would please 
 me better. But I fear I can't leave my pen. Borthwick 
 promises me introductions there. It would be pleasant, 
 I will see. . . . — Your faithful George M. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 CopsiLm, March 17, 1862. 
 
 My dear Hardman, — You are well out of this weather. 
 Myself am in appearance much like the atmosphere ; 
 in sentiment I am due East. King Aeolus holds his 
 court within me. I feel as one who has run a gallant
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 63 
 
 race h way to perdition, and thinks of returning as far 
 as he can before the final Trump shall sound to him. 
 
 Last night came off the RafHe. I record it. Sons got 
 the number 35. YourseK and Demitroia respectively 
 36 and 37. WaKord 18. Morison and spouse about 30 
 I think. I had two throws, first 29 and second 41. The 
 Granges 39 ; the Claremont people 38. Lo ! G. M. is 
 the winner of what he does not want at all. So it 
 happens ! If Demitroia won't have the thing, it shall 
 go to JMiss Grange. . . . 
 
 I hope to hear good news of Demitroia. If not, j'ou 
 can no longer as a man decline to open a vein and supply 
 her from your abundance. I confess I am astonished 
 that you have not volunteered to do so. — Your faithful 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To the Rev. Augustus Jessopp. 
 
 EsHEE, 3Iarch 24, 1862. 
 
 My dear Mr. Jessopp, — ^JMy boy thanks you heartily 
 for the book of verse. He delays to write himself, he 
 says, until he has read it through, and can speak sagely 
 on the subject. Of this you will approve. — He, let me 
 tell you, is not a ' George,' but is ' Arthur Gryffydd.' — 
 I must say I think the selection very Patmorian, but it 'a 
 a pleasant book for a boy, and this httle man reads it 
 with pleasure. The sentimental pieces, of course, affect 
 him the least ; for he is a natural fellow, and I never 
 trouble the roots of him. Dibdin is almost his favourite : 
 he recites the fines on Sir Sidney Smith gleefuUy. 
 
 Apropos of Praxaspes, shame on me ! I had to hunt 
 him up. My old impression of him, and my new, differ. 
 Duty is a fine heroic business ; but a man should be a 
 slave to nothmg. P. was a slave to his conception of this 
 virtue. What ! he serves the man who slaughters his 
 son : he takes pride in bemg faithful to the dynasty of
 
 64 LETTERS OF GEORGE T.IEREDITH 
 
 a madman ! — I give my sjinpatliies to the persecuted 
 Magi. 
 
 Praxaspes might be cast in the form of a monologue. 
 But, you see I am on the other side. 
 
 Does Mrs. Jessopp really mean to visit me ? Does she 
 know the sort of place she will be coming to ? She will 
 do me great honour and make me very happy, but I 
 desire that she be distinctly aware of what she must 
 undergo in a hut — for this roof that covers me is nothing 
 more. Does she not travel in Smtzerland ? — She can 
 then rough hardship. — Let me know when I may expect 
 you, if you hold by this good resolve. 
 
 My book hangs a httle. I am sick of the sight of it. 
 A council of friends say that the Rosanna poem must be 
 published, as embodying something of me ! — Of the old 
 volume nothing will appear. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 March 24, 1862. 
 
 Dear Friend, — I feel for you in your profound 
 affliction. Has she returned ? Pardon my asking. 
 You break out beautifully into dishes and show a lovely 
 and most becoming bravado. . . . ' And every dog shall 
 have his day,' Old Song. 
 
 Morison ^ did not come. He was right. But, oh, what 
 a day this day ! How I wish you were here to wander 
 about. The smell of the earth is Elysian. I am really 
 not tauntin' you. On Wednesday I will come to your 
 desolate household if the South wind does not blow — 
 with what different feelings. — Your ever faithful 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 Bill for fly to Oatlands 5/ just come in. I promised 
 to tell you, and I am a man of my word. 
 
 * James Cotter Morison, familiarly termed 'St. Bernard,' author of a 
 Life of St. Bernard, and later of The Service of Man, etc.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 65 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 March 25, 1862. 
 
 My dear Hard]vian, — Please do not expect me posi- 
 tively to-morrow. I may call on Thursday : but what 
 I want to do is to go with you and Demitroia to the 
 Monday Popular Concerts to hear Joachim, and music, 
 since your infernal alterations stop all that at home. . . . 
 And yet, supposing I am weak and come to-morrow ! 
 You may turn me back from the door without giving 
 ofience, for I shall know I have deserved it ; and I shall 
 have tho imperial luxury of one who, from the couch of 
 indolence, surveys the Realms of Bhss. 
 
 By the way, a letter from Alexandria. My Janet 
 refuses to give the verses, unless I stringently insist ; 
 * for,' says she, ' they were composed for me and me alone, 
 and I don't want to lose the sense of their being pecuhar 
 to myself ' . . . Can I msist ? — I must e'en write Demi- 
 taunton a new set of verse. 
 
 PS. — I really think I shall come. But don't expect 
 me. 
 
 To William Hardmnn. 
 
 April 22, 1862. 
 
 My dear Hardman, — Thanks for your services. . . . 
 I let the thing pass. Let the pubHc drive me to a 2nd 
 edition, if they want further alterations. 
 
 Friendhest Tuck ! I dine with you at the hour you 
 please to name on Thursday. You will decide about 
 Chapman. It 's a matter of policy simply. Let me 
 know. If we dissipate subsequently we should dine at 
 5.30,— if not at 6. 
 
 I say ! Poor dear old Morison ! I suppose you have 
 heard of his purl ? Horse went down with him on high 
 road and precipitated the horse and St. Bernard in the 
 
 VOL. I. — E
 
 66 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 dust, which was nearly stopping flow of same. All 's 
 well that ends well ! But one feels one likes him warmly 
 when there is a note of danger. He has been shaken 
 considerably — had a slight fever, and is without his 
 strength, though he managed to walk to me yesterday. 
 I walked back with him. He had to take fly at Walton 
 station. 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 COPSHAM, ESHER. 
 
 Is it the same sky over us ? Mine is of the grimmest 
 grey, with a fog-lining. The daffodil in the meadow 
 has been nodding to this genial wind for the last two 
 weeks : and now we have the pen-bird heralding the 
 cuckoo, and I suppose summer is coming : but we are 
 aU in suspense to know whether we are to get a daily 
 ducking or Uve the hfe of non-purgatorial beings through 
 the months. Last Sunday there was a puff of sunshine. 
 I walked with a couple of fellows to Box HiU. What 
 changes since last year ! I looked over the hilly Dorking 
 road we traversed. It wound away for other footsteps. 
 Well ! — ^you at least have nothing to regret. I hope the 
 sunshine will cling to you. 
 
 The Naples correspondent of the ' Times ' gives a 
 horrible account of the state of the country, and rather 
 alarms one about you : but having so precious a charge 
 to protect you won't be rash, I 'm sure. — Of course, you 
 have heard all about the Monitor and Merrimac. A 
 pretty business sea-fighting comes to ! Was there ever 
 so devihsh an entertainment ! Blood bursting from 
 the eyes and ears of the men at the guns, who seemed to 
 be under the obligation of knocking their own senses 
 to atoms as a prehminary to sending the souls of their 
 foes to perdition. If they want me to go on board such
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 67 
 
 vessels, I plead with Charles Lamb, ' Lance, and a 
 coward/ — The whole business affects the imagination 
 awfully : but in reality an old sea-fight was a far bloodier 
 business. Science, I presume, will at last put it to our 
 option whether we will improve one another from off 
 the face of the globe, and we must decide by our common 
 sense. 
 
 Read John Mill on ' Liberty ' the other day ; and re- 
 commend it to you. It 's a splendid protest against the 
 tyranny society is beginning to exercise ; very noble 
 and brave. 
 
 The book will be out the Monday after Easter. I sent 
 with Borthwick as many of the proofs as I could collect ; 
 thinking you would have no time to review in Rome. 
 But, if you have not done it, let me beg you to be in no 
 hurr}'-. The book can wait. You will find one or two 
 poems that you have not seen. The ' Ode to the Spirit 
 of Earth in Autumn.' may please you. 
 
 I heard from Borthwick of the Violet's charming ad- 
 venture with the Emperor, and can picture it. 
 
 What you say about Christianity arresting sensualism, 
 is very well : but the Essenian parentage of Christianity 
 was simply asceticism. Hitherto human nature has 
 marched through the conflict of extremes. With the 
 general growth of reason, it will be possible to choose a 
 path mid-way. Paganism no doubt deserved the ascetic 
 reproof ; but Christianity failed to supply much that 
 it destroyed. Pompeii, as being, artistically, a Grecian 
 Colony merely, cannot represent the higher development 
 of Paganism. 
 
 Alas ! I fear I shall not join you in Venice. — By the 
 way, take care to get an introduction to Rawdon Brown, 
 while there. He has Uved and worked at the Archives 
 in Venice for 20 years, and can tell you more of the place 
 than any other man. I hear he is also a good fellow.
 
 68 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 Pray, give my kindest regards to your Cecilia. I am 
 flattered to hear that Enghshmen stand so high with her 
 now that she can make comparisons. — Write soon ; and 
 know me ever, your faithful George M. 
 
 In Venice read * Julian and Maddalo.' It is one of 
 Shelley's best : admirable for simphcity of style, ease, 
 beauty of description and local truth. The philosophy, 
 of course, you may pass. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 Map 2, 1862. 
 Such Weather. 
 And at Copsham no Tuck ! 
 
 Anathema ! 
 Spoken by the poet on receiving 
 
 Tuck's 
 Card : May 2nd, 1862. 
 
 ' May his company find him utterly dull, and he his 
 company ! 
 
 * May he hear good things and not comprehend them ! 
 
 * May he long in anguish to laugh, and when the laugh 
 comes, may he forget the cause thereof, and go seeking 
 for it, for the remainder of his years, with the aspect of 
 such a seeker ! 
 
 * May DemitroTa exclaim, " I am of a different opinion 
 from WiUiam " ! ! ! ' 
 
 (CHmax attained.) 
 (Close of Anathema.) 
 
 Went to Exhibition on opening Day with Borthwick. 
 Crush. Saw everything. . . . Dined with Morison and 
 Hicks, and drank Hocks, etc. Anticipated seeing you, 
 cock-certain, to-morrow. Will never believe your cock-
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 69 
 
 certain again ! — Book to be delivered this evening or 
 to-morrow. Has subscribed v/onderfully well. In spite 
 of all. — ^Your loving George M. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 COPSHAM, May 5, 1862. 
 
 Madrigal 
 
 * Since Tuck is Faithless Found ' 
 
 Since Tuck is faithless found, no more 
 I '11 trust to man or maid ; 
 I '11 sit me down, a hermit hoar. 
 Alone in Copsham shade. 
 
 The sight of all I shun ; 
 Far-spying from the mound ; 
 I '11 be at home no more. 
 
 Since Tuck, 
 
 Since Tu-a tu-a tu-a 
 
 Tuia Tuck, 
 Since Tuck is faithless found. 
 
 Oh ! what a glorious daj. I have done lots of Emilia, 
 and am now o2 to Ripley, or St. Demitroia hill, or Tuck's 
 Height, carolling. I snap mj fuigers at you. And yet, 
 dear Tuck, what would I give to have you here. The 
 gorse is all ablaze, the meadows are glorious — green, 
 humming all day. Nightingales throng. Heaven, blessed 
 blue amorous Heaven, is hard at work upon our fair, 
 wanton, darlhig old naughty Mother Earth. 
 
 Come, dear Tuck, and quickly, or I must love a woman, 
 and be ruined. Answer me, grievous man ! 
 
 In thine ear ! — Asparagus is ripe at Ripley. In haste. 
 — Your constantly lovmg friend, George M.
 
 70 LETTERS OF GEORGE IVIEREDITH 
 
 To William Hardinan. 
 
 CopsHAM Hermitage, May 6, 1862. 
 I dare say ! You know how badly you have behaved, 
 and now you praise the poet and cajole the man ! Is it 
 Tuck that sends me a letter of this kind ? — Not a word 
 of repentance for a promise foully broken. No appoint- 
 ment for — or let me say, expression of humble desire, 
 to receive pardon of, Copsham in the flesh next Saturday. 
 I won't come to you on Tuesday. I will emit fresh 
 Anathemas ! Read next page, or no ; rhyme is more 
 kindly. 
 
 Tune : ' Johnny 's too late for the Fair,' 
 
 Tuck ! Tuck ! Once you would flatter me, 
 Saying that I in due season should fatter be. 
 Here is Asparagus — what can the matter be ? 
 Why don't you join in the Fair ? 
 
 Ripley 's the place with the jolly old Talbot Inn, 
 Once we tAVo passed there, you know, and were all but 
 
 in. 
 Rhyme now commands me to throw here a small ' but ' 
 
 in. 
 Why don't you join in the Fair ? 
 
 I saw the Japanese at the Exhibition on Thursday last. 
 This Thursday I dine with the ' Once a Week ' people, 
 and shall ask Hamilton for a bed.^ I won't come to you 
 unless I can be more with j-ou. Now, please come down 
 for some days in this magnificent weather. The nightin- 
 gales are at their best. I went to see St. Demitroia's 
 Hill yesterday, and saw the great Irrational — the Crystal, 
 Walford's Domicile, Harrow, Windsor, Berks, Bucks, 
 
 * N. E. S. A. Hamilton of the MSS. Dopartmont, Britiah Museum, 
 1852-1872, author of The Shakespearean Question, 18G0.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 71 
 
 Hants, Hogs Back. Mon Dieu ! And no Tuck near ! 
 To Demitroia all kindness. — Still (through weakness of 
 resolve) your loving George M. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 CopSHAM, May 18, 1862. 
 
 QuESTIOlSrS AND ANSWERS 
 
 Q. What 's a continual feast ? 
 
 A. A day given up to Tuck. 
 
 Q. Why am I of a most vigorous capacity of digestion ? 
 
 A. Because I never can have too much of Tuck. 
 
 Q. Is it true that an Alderman before he finishes his 
 day must necessarily take a bracing walk ? 
 
 A. Necessarily so ; for he makes the circuit of Tuck ! 
 
 Confound the Press for its impudence in calling me 
 the pupil of anybody ! Never mind : ii we do but get 
 the public ear. Oh, my dear old boy ! — I rejoice to think 
 that I may soon have you, but grieve for Demitroia. 
 Come on Tuesday, if you can ; 'cause Wednesday is the 
 day before Black Thursday when George Pegasus, Esq. 
 goes mto harness and understands what donkeys feel when 
 they are driven. Also, arrange, if it seemeth fit to you, 
 for a walk with Hinchhffe, or alone for Saturday next : 
 or arrange to come to me. As you wiU. 
 
 Gathering up my soul in its might, I say (and damn 
 aU consequences) my love to Demitroia ! There ! 
 
 George M. 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 CopSHAM, EsHEE, June 9, 1862. 
 
 My dear Maxse, — I look about vainly for a long 
 letter already written to you ; but it 's as good as 
 nowhere. I must trust you to know yourself constantly 
 in my thoughts. But I feel that you are quite at peace
 
 72 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 and as a river embayed, a deep quiet mirror to illimitable 
 skies. Shall I stir my mind about the Elect ? Let them 
 walk in their Paradise ! So, though I think of you, 
 it is as one under seal ; fixed, stamped, monotonously 
 certain of his fate. This destroys all sequence of ideas 
 in me. I revert inevitably to the original proposition — 
 ' He has aimed and hit the mark.' All around him now 
 is empty babble. However, I will talk, for you may 
 be beginning to sigh for a breath of England. Ah me ! 
 how I would wish to be with you, if wishing availed. 
 But I must work on, and it is just now imperative, or 
 nothing would keep me from Venice and you at this 
 season, or from Italy and you. I know we should feel 
 together on so much there ; and then smishine means 
 ten times more with sweet companionship. — I am work- 
 ing at Emilia Belloni. Health is so-so — it has been pretty 
 good. What works I could throw off if I had the digestion 
 of any of the creatures that hope to be saved ! I am 
 fretted with so much in my head that my hands can't 
 accomphsh. The other day I walked with a good fellow 
 whom you should know (his wife would make a charming 
 companion for St. Cecilia) to JVIickleham, after dinner. 
 There we slept. Next morning early we took our old 
 route — over Dorking to Wotton : round Evel^nn's grounds 
 on to Shere, then on the downs to St. Martha's : thence 
 to Guildford, Godalming, IVIilford, to the little Inn where 
 you heard the nightingales and were ravished by them. 
 After that my friend hmped, so we had to return the 
 day folio whig, by train. 
 
 I hope, b}^ the way, your review won't be written before 
 you see the book. One poem, new to you (Ode to the 
 Spirit of Earth in Autumn), wiU please j^ou better than 
 all — please you specially. It will suffice for me if you 
 tell me what you think of it, and not the public. The 
 notices that have appeared fix favourably on the Road-
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 73 
 
 side poems, but discard ' Modem Love/ which, I admit, 
 requires thought, and discernment, and reading more 
 than once. The Saturday R. has not yet spoken. One 
 paper calls me a genius — one, a meretricious, clever, 
 bold man. I find, to my annoyance, that I am suscept- 
 tible to remarks on my poems, and criticisms from 
 whipsters or women absolutely make me wince and flush. 
 I saw Robert Browning the other day, and he expressed 
 himself ' astounded at the originahty, delighted with the 
 naturalness and beauty.' — Pardon my egotism — I write 
 to please j'ou ! 
 
 I have not yet seen Gibson's Venus. I went to the 
 Lit. Ex. on the opening day — have delayed to go since. 
 It was a poor unimpressive show. Fancy the Poet 
 Laureate in the line of march ! 
 
 June 13. — Your letter from Lucca : — You complain of 
 sun. The S.W. has been blowmg since the middle of May, 
 and this year has not yet known one day of sunshine. — 
 Rossetti is beginning to ask about your Lady, to know 
 when he may have a sitting. He, dear fellow, is better — 
 still somewhat shaken. Mention it not — ^he buried his 
 MSS. poems in his wife's coffin, it is whispered. He, his 
 brother, and Swinburne, have taken a house (Sir T. 
 More's) at Chelsea : a strange, quaint, grand old place, 
 with an immense garden, magnificent panelled staircases 
 and rooms, — a palace. I am to have a bedroom for my 
 once-a-week visits. We shall have nice evenings there, 
 and I hope you '11 come. . . . — The Notices of my book 
 are scarce worth sending. The ' Spectator ' abuses me. 
 The ' Athena3um ' mildly pats me on the back : the 
 ' Parthenon ' blows a trumpet about me : the * Sat. R.' 
 makes no sign. — VvTiatever number of books you may like 
 to have, pray accept as your own. Is not mine yours, 
 in all things ? I would prefer that you should not buy 
 books of mine. That is for the good pubhc to do.
 
 74 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 I wish particularly to be kept au courant of your 
 change of abode : there 's no knowing what I might do, 
 on the spur. Whither in Switzerland do you go, first ? 
 I presume, across the Itahan Lakes, and over the Spliigen 
 to Lucerne. Be careful of the waters of that lake : 
 at some points it is dangerous at any moment. — Tell me, 
 don't you find that great heat somewhat narrows and 
 sharpens the reflective power ? The effect, in Southern 
 climates, on Art, is to sacrifice all to outUne, as a rule, 
 and murder detail. Even during the short time I was 
 in Italy I experienced this in a small degree. If the 
 passions did but slumber, Italy would be the very spot 
 of earth for great work to be done. Here ! — I should 
 like to try it. — I have a comedy germinatmg in the 
 brain, of the Classic order : ' The Sentimentalists.' I 
 fancy it will turn out well. * Emilia Belloni ' goes 
 slowly forward, for the reason that I have re-written 
 it : so, all will be new to you. I shall send you the 
 Cornhill Mag. next month. Adam Bede has a new work 
 in it. I understand they have given her an enormous 
 sum (£8000, or more ! she retaining ultimate copyright) 
 — Bon Dieu ! will aught like this ever happen to me ? — 
 Shall you stay long at Turin ? — Of all the horrible cities ! 
 Two or three days at Milan will give you quite enough of 
 the pet Itahan city : go to the Brera : and see Leonardo's 
 wrecked Last Supper. On Como stop at BeUagio — ^not 
 at the Villa d'Este : the hotel is good at the latter place, 
 but the scenery is not so fine. . . . — ^Your constant loving 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 June 18, 1862. 
 
 Well-beloved Tuck ! — (Though I know I am cut.) 
 9th progressive station of Ginger Beer to eventful Pop, 
 passed pleasantly. Your kind recognition of it was
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 75 
 
 received by me with loud exclamation of delight. Come 
 on Saturday, I prithee. But excuse my attendance on 
 Friday. I am obhged to be here, and indeed, notwith- 
 standing your taunts, Copsham is worth a visit just now. 
 The roses and the Romford ale are in their finest condition. 
 — In haste, j^our faithful 
 
 Robin Selkirk 
 Island of Juan Fernandez, Copsham. 
 
 My homage to Demitroia as ever. 
 
 Menu approved ; but to send it now, when the feast 
 is over ! Am I embracing a phantom ! Does my mouth 
 water for a corpse ! Does not the favourite poet of WE 
 say ' Look not mournfully into the past ' ? You make me. 
 
 To Captain Maxse. " 
 
 Copsham, Esher, June. 23, 1862. 
 
 My dear Maxse, — I write in haste, a short note, on 
 the chance of speaking to you before you leave Turui. 
 Your article has appeared in the ' Post.' It is very 
 good : but do you think it ? You should have whipped 
 me on the score of the absurdities, obscurities, and what 
 not. I feel that you have been sparing me, and though 
 I don't love the rod, I don't cry mercy. I 'm exceedingly 
 sorry that you did not review from the book. The Ode 
 to the Spirit of Earth will, if I mistake not, catch hold 
 of you. I will see that notices of the Poems are for- 
 warded to you. But let me know your route and resting- 
 places. — Tell me when you write, whether your scenic 
 faculty has been excited, and by what, — I am at work 
 on Emiha Belloni, and bringing her more to j'our taste. 
 I have remodelled the whole — making the background 
 more agreeable and richer comedy. I have an immense 
 quantity of work in store. Prose, poetry : a comedy 
 (The Scntimentahsts), etc. Health is still weak and will
 
 76 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 never be much, I fear, unless I can purchase two years' 
 
 perfect rest and travel. — B. W came the other day : 
 
 ' acknoUodged ' his foregone errors, and hoped for forgive- 
 ness : ' Me deer Mardith,' etc. ! — ^He hopes to get some 
 property now. I fear he is in a prospective mess. His 
 present one is without dispute. I helped him to the best 
 of mj'' abihty, and he departed, praising me, magnifying 
 me, — Fred Chapman, j^ou know, is married. He goes to 
 Florence in September. Tom Trollope (who hves there) 
 tells me that September is a dehcious month for Florence, 
 the best in the year. — What are your plans about the 
 winter ? Don't fail to let me know, because, if you are 
 in Italy in early Spring next, — ^say, Feb. -March to Juno, 
 I will come over, as I desire to breathe that air with you. 
 — I have not yet been to the International a second time. 
 
 Are you writing anything beyond impressions or 
 voyages ? — Wliat you told me once on that head (that 
 I have influenced you against your own compositions, 
 acting so as to check you) weighs upon me sadly, now 
 and then. I know you will be happier if 3-0U write, and 
 I am convinced you wOl, if you choose, write a good book. 
 Pray, don't put aside that old and excellent ambition of 
 yours. You will miss a friend. 
 
 I begin to yearn to see you — just as I did when in 
 Tyrol. You will get a sentimental poem this time. 
 
 You hear all about the Yankees and politics, of course. 
 
 Read ' Les Miserables,' if j^ou can get it. Six vols, are 
 out. It is conceived in pure blaclv and white. It is, 
 nevertheless, the master work of fiction of this century — 
 as yet. There are things in it quite wonderful. 
 
 I bow my head to your dear Lad}^ praying that her 
 health may be improved, and am, your loving 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 My dear boy is quite well, flourishes wonderfully.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 77 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 July 12, 1862. 
 
 My dear First Person Plural, — I wish I could come 
 to you. The rolling seasons seem to have gone round 
 thrice since I (I forgot whom I was addressing), shook 
 your hands. 
 
 I remember one Tuck, a jovial soul, a man after my 
 own heart, whom I loved. I asked Nature for him ; 
 she draws a South-west veil across my eyes, weeping. 
 Francatelli nods a cold and tasteless response ! Tuck ! 
 No answer ! I explore the woods of Copsham dale, 
 fruitlessly. 
 
 On Friday is the illustrious small man's birthday, and 
 he must not be left. Edward Peacock and his boy are 
 staying with me till Saturday. Rossetti and Swmbume 
 come on Saturday. Will you come the week following ? 
 
 Aha ! — As if I cannot see that I am cut, and that the 
 gulf of a tail-coat is for ever more twixt me and Tuck. — 
 BeHeve me still and ever, my dear F. P. Plural, your 
 loving George ^I. 
 
 To William Hardynan. 
 
 Ryde Pier Hotel, August 16, 1862. 
 
 Free Lover Tuck ! — To-morrow we shall sail ! We 
 are off to the West, Love ! 
 
 And now for a Toast ! 
 
 (To Tuck the Toast shall be) 
 
 I am off along the Coast, 
 
 And would he were with me. 
 
 (Popular London Air, commonly chanted 
 by Tuck and Robin. ) 
 
 Here 's Morison, drunk with salt water, Mrs. M. ditto. 
 G. M. ditto, ditto. We swear we '11 live in it till we come
 
 78 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDTTH 
 
 home pickled. I have got a Pea-jacket and such a 
 nautical hat, and such a roll of the legs already. 
 
 Now, Tuck, — Will you do this for me ? — Will you write 
 for this week's * Ipswich Journal ' a summary of the week's 
 news : and an article — on America, if you like. Follow 
 the Press. Will you call and see Foakes ? ^ And if you 
 don't see him, will you, nevertheless, send your work on 
 Thursday, or take it, to Mr. Gough, at 1 New Square, 
 Lincohi's Inn, where you sometimes caU and see your 
 Robin on Thursdays ; and if you, perchance, don't see 
 Gough, wiU you post the aforesaid to H. Knights, Esq., 
 * Ipswich Journal ' Office, Ipswich. I shall write and post 
 one article, but I shan't be up to the latest news. 
 
 For I '11 be in a cabin, 
 Just 3 feet long, 6 square. 
 Just ponder on your Robin, 
 The figure of him there. 
 
 'O' 
 
 I don't care a damn, 
 etc. 
 
 You will immensely obUge me by doing this, and I shall 
 then be able to run over to the Channel Islands. If not, 
 I must up to London from Weymouth. Please write 
 then immediately (Post Office, Weymouth, if you write 
 on Monday, ditto Torquay if on Tuesday) that I may 
 hear from you on Tuesday morning. Adieu. My 
 (Neptune emboldens me !) love to Demitroia. — ^Your 
 friend, penitent, loving, lastingly, George Meredith. 
 
 By the way, why don't you come down to Copsham 
 for a day or two, next week ? If you can write for me, 
 I shan't be back till Tuesday or Wednesday week. The 
 cottage and all in it are yours. There can you invite 
 
 * Proprietor of tho Ipsivich Journal,
 
 
 f&/. 
 
 ■t-
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 79 
 
 R. C. to dine with you in place of my doing so. And I 
 wish you would ! There 's wine in the cellar. If you 
 think weU of this, drop Miss Grange a word of warning. 
 I am surprisingly aux cieux already. 
 
 A dreadful hitch in S. Belloni has been distressing me 
 of late. This day tides me over the difficulty — to-morrow. 
 I am moodily leaning over the bin (2 n's, I think) -acle, 
 thinking of Tuck ! Au revoir. Mind ! The Weymouth 
 Post Office ; Torquay on Wednesday. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 August 1862. 
 
 My dear Hardiman, — Here is a precious liberty I am 
 
 going to take ! S has come, so I must stop in town, 
 
 and so must Sons. Will you bed us (Sons and self) till 
 
 Monday ? I fancy S will be delighted to come on 
 
 Sunday. He looks wild and rough, but who wouldn't 
 after being horded with 397 men and 3 women. One of 
 the latter wears a fine moustache. It struck me (I saw 
 the whole boilin' of 'em) that one of the 397 left it on her 
 lips by accident, or that the 397 contributed. Might I 
 
 brmg S , but No. Oh, Tuck ! ShaU I teU it ?— It 's 
 
 a fact : but in anguish I beg you to conceal it even from 
 
 D — ia. S came smack at my cheeks when we met. 
 
 It was done before them aU. Now I feel what Lucretia's 
 emotions were : or those of the little girl, with the sense 
 of colour so strong, examined b}^ Knox. Your loving 
 
 George M. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 George Inn, 
 Great Marlow, Sept. 7, 1862. 
 
 Dearest, and if possible, more Precious Tuck, because 
 absent ! And yet not so, but more desired. And thereby 
 hangs a philosophy. Johnson hath mc in an iron grip :
 
 80 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 saith I shan't go save as an arrow head from the bow 
 which himself twangeth. I say, that but for Black 
 Foakes' Day, common to no Calendar, save mine, Alas ! 
 I would, 
 
 Willy nilly, 
 Be off with you a jolly dance, 
 To Falmouth, Torquay and Penzance 
 Or Scilly. 
 
 But Johnson ^ adds — ' Will Hardman come down to me 
 at Hoddesdon, on Monday week, and go to see Hatfield 
 (famous old garden and house) and Panshanger, where 
 are pictures of price — if so let him say so, as a man, 
 and he is welcome.' To this I add, from him and from 
 me. Come down here for a day or two. We are comfort- 
 able. The country is dehcious. The wallvS are heavenly. 
 The river is a dream of green herbage and reflected 
 heaven. The weather promises. May we expect you 
 on Tuesday or Monday night, perchance — on a sudden : 
 a great feat ! You are free, and soon going to be melan- 
 choly, if without excitement. Do come. Johnson is 
 very desirous to make acquaintance with the grasp of 
 your hand. I, when I am parted from it, pine, as you 
 know ! — Write ! But should the true Tuckian inspiration 
 seize you, outstrip the post, as you alone can. — In all love, 
 your faithful Robin, 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 FOAKES DEN, AFTER FOAKES DAY, 
 
 Sept. 19, 1862. 
 
 My DEAR Tuck, — I rejoice to hear that the wandering 
 atom ' I ' is the happy and thrice-beloved * We ' once 
 more. Here 's my news. Thursday last a letter from 
 
 1 Of Johnson, Matthoy and Co., bullion brokers. Nicknamed 
 ' T'.ulHon.'
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 81 
 
 Copsham to say that Zillah ^ has Smallpox ! Luckily the 
 little man was at Hoddesdon. I have written to Jessopp, 
 who will take him immediately. Hard as it is to let him 
 go, he goes on Friday next. Lo, I have been prompt on 
 this occasion, but conceive the horrible bore. The house 
 won't be habitable for 2 months ; and friends won't come 
 under 4. I have notions of skidaddling. I go this day 
 down to Tunbridge Wells, and return on Wednesday 
 following. On Friday to Norwich. Then to Oxford 
 with Morison on Tuesday for a short period. Then to 
 Sussex. Then — ^perhaps to Tuck, for 2 or 3 days, if he 
 has returned to the Refectory. Health at Mario w 
 excellent : at Hoddesdon poor. Result in London — 
 Megrims. 
 
 I heard of poor Hinchhffe from Hamilton last night, 
 who spoke croakily. Please convey to Hinchliffe my 
 word of sympathy and hope to see him recovered soon. 
 Also congratulations of the heartiest kind to that humble 
 aspirant for women's honours, the fair young Betsy ! 
 Amphitrite, we might have been sure, would do the 
 business for her. Now for Cupidon. . . . 
 
 Went to Hatfield and Panshanger. Hertfordshire is 
 a pretty county. I would rather not dwell in it. Yet 
 with Tuck — and when I say with my We Tuck I do not 
 mean to diminish him and make him small — the contrary : 
 yea, I double him almost — with my We Tuck I could 
 dwell in many places and exchange friendly nods with 
 Providence. ... 
 
 My love to Potter and Nellie. ^ To Demitroia all sweet 
 things. 
 
 PS. — At Hoddesdon, facing Johnson's house, there is 
 a butcher, his name is TUCK. 
 
 * Niece of Miss Grange, housekeeper at Copsham. 
 
 ^ Ethel and Nellie, dauglitors of Mr. and Mrs. Hardman. 
 
 VOL. I. — F
 
 82 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 To Mrs. Jessopp. 
 
 COPSHAM, ESHER. 
 
 My dear Mrs. Jessopp, — I thought I might have come 
 on Friday ; but on that day I have three masters ; and 
 this is not a figure of speech, but a fact in flesh. I could 
 not get out of harness till 3 p.m., and the 4 express would 
 have brought me to you too late. I should have liked 
 so much to see the boys and my boy among them. He 
 has gro^vn strange to me in the long absence. . . . Now 
 this is my proposition : — ^You will see it is deUvered 
 under the perfect conviction that I am welcome, and 
 even wanted : — as thus : I will come to you this quarter 
 for a week and bring home my little man at its close : — 
 Or : — I will come to you the next quarter for 2-3 weeks, 
 lighter of heart, less burdened on head. I will then write 
 nothing but poetry (not of hedges and ditches) and I 
 will bloom my best. 
 
 There ! — You shall decide. If I come now I shall cer- 
 tainly not be sad about it : I am certain to be pleased : 
 I can make aU arrangements with a week's warning, 
 but I am under some pressure : for this reason, among 
 others, that my fastidiousness has made me turn from 
 my new work to cut to pieces four prmted chapters of 
 Emiha (who begins to dissatisfy me totally, as do all 
 my offspring that have put on type). If I come next 
 quarter this gloom and uncertainty will have vanished. 
 
 You will flatter me by deciding. I state the case — act 
 thou. You know I shall be happy under the roof that 
 holds my dearest ; and more, among my dearest friends : 
 so let your mandate be what it may, hesitate not. — Have 
 I fijxed the onus upon you cleverly ? I have simply put 
 matters as they stand. 
 
 What an unpleasant thing for Holden is that scarlet- 
 fever case ! Tlie disease has been going the round of all
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 83 
 
 the public schools. May Norwich be spared ! Yes : 
 I trust : but parental humanity is anxious. 
 
 I shall write to Mr. Jessopp in a few days. Pray, let 
 me hear si^eedily. — ^Your ever faithful 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To Frank Burnand} 
 
 TuNBRiDQE Wells. 
 
 My dear Frank, — ^Your letter has been forwarded to 
 me here. My housekeeper's niece at the Cottage has 
 fever : fortunately Sons were absent. So we are all in 
 exile : and consequent^, I pronounce the dread word, 
 and he is already breeched for school. 
 
 I shall be m towTi on Friday, and will order ' that ' 
 a cop3^ of ' Modem Love ' ' be ' sent you. The printers' 
 errors are innumerable. 
 
 I am going to Norwich with Sons at the end of the week, 
 to the King Edward's Grammar School, the Head Master 
 of which is a friend, and very fond of the httle man. 
 Write to me, ' Care of Rev. A. Jessopp, The School House, 
 Norwich,' whether j^ou can take me for a night, on my 
 return. If the young Mauritius ^ is at HurstpieqDoint, 
 and wiU have me for 2 or 3 days, I shall then go to him. 
 If you go too, all the better. 
 
 That you have been wearing the mask of ' Fun ' for 
 some period, I have knovioi. 
 
 As often in a biui 
 
 The currants you surprise, 
 Behind the mask of Fun 
 
 I catch my Franco's eyes. 
 
 ^ Later Sir Francis Burnand, on the staff of Fun. He became a 
 contributor to, and later editor of, Punch. 
 * Maurice Fitzgerald.
 
 84 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 Oct. 4, 1862. 
 
 Tuck, Sweet Charmer, tell me why 
 I 'm at ease when you are by ? 
 Have you had ' a round ' with Care, 
 Left him smoshen, stript him bare. 
 That he never more can try 
 Falls with me when you are by ? 
 
 Ah, but when from me you 're screened, 
 'Atrobihad glows the fiend : 
 Fire is wet and water dry : 
 Candles bum cocked hats awry : 
 Hope her diamond portal shuts, 
 Grim dyspepsia haunts my — Ahem ! 
 
 (Madrigal written in St. John's College, Cambridge, 
 Saturday, October 4, 1862.) 
 
 Yes ! I am here. Meeting of British Ass. — So, why not ? 
 And I Ve wandered up and down Trinity thinking of 
 Tuck, the radiant, and of others, mooning by the Cam, 
 into which classic flood dropped numerous dead leaves. 
 I have dined with Fellows and am to dine with them 
 again : have been cordially received, and inhabit cham- 
 bers of an absent graduate, whose slave is my slave. 
 Jessopp brought me. We return to Norwich to-night. 
 What a good fellow he is ! His wife takes high rank 
 in Demitroia's Corps. She is quite charming : she 
 unites worth and sweetness of nature and capacity. 
 They have the same face for the school that they show 
 to the world. I never conceived a place better managed. 
 Jessopp has 25 boys in his house. They have studies 
 where 2 study together and are never intruded upon. 
 He breakfasts and dines with them. We have a good 
 deal of Prayer. Oh, Tuck, have we not led thoughtless 
 lives and snuffed our own conceit ! Tuck !
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 85 
 
 In the evening, Jessopp, his wife, a pretty niece, and 
 myself, do music, read Moliere, and are really happy. 
 I feel so much that I would gladly Uve near them if it 
 were possible. 
 
 I particularly wish you to know them. Tuck ! It 
 would do thee good, for an I be not deceived, thou art 
 but a lost sheep and one of the ungodly. 
 
 The Dormitories of the boys are thoroughly ventilated, 
 cool as a twihght balcony. Each boy is partitioned ofiE 
 from his neighbour, and the main punishment is for 
 infringing this partition. Jessopp has sent up from here 
 six scholarships lately. Well, Sons are wonderfully 
 buoyant in a jiffy. Mrs. Jessopp writes to say that she 
 took the boys to Lowestoft yesterday. Sons were so 
 independent that they assured her they were exactly hke 
 the other boys and didn't want looking after. This is 
 a fair prospect for my dear man. 
 
 Mrs. Jessopp is the friend of every resident in the 
 house, and the bovs love her. In wit and blood she is 
 one of the brightest little women that you can meet. 
 Jessopp may well praise her fuie quaUties. The Lord 
 decreed to him a helpmate. I say. Tuck ! Does praying 
 get us wives of this sort ? If so — But it is clear that 
 it does not, for Tuck never goes on his marrow-bones as 
 I have been doing 24 times per diem of late. Jessopp 
 won't let me depart till Monday week. I am very com- 
 fortable, so why not ? — Then I go to Sussex : then to 
 Richmond, then to Morison, then to Oxford, then to 
 Glaisher and Coxwell, then to Endymion's dear Love. 
 (I will drop you some green cheese regularly at 6 p.m. 
 while there.) After that, Bedlam, I suppose, for I don't 
 know of any other place for which I shall have been such 
 an accompHshed graduate. What 's coming to me ? 
 I feel the sensations of some pecuharly scampish Racket 
 ball. Love to — ^now, don't get in a passion, Tuck I
 
 86 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 Human nature will out, sometimes — Potter, and Nellie, 
 and Potter's mother, and Nellie's mother, and Tuck's 
 wife. So, there, you see : your jealousy brings it on you 
 three times instead of once. Adieu ! — Your loving 
 
 George M. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 School House, 
 Norwich, Oct. 4, 1862. 
 
 Dear Sir, — I take the liberty to write to you, request- 
 ing a line of information, concerning one. Tuck, a ruddy 
 man and a lusty, with whom I suppose 3-ou to be ac- 
 quainted, and about whom I have recently been feeling 
 a considerable anxiety. He has relations at Hoddesdon, 
 Tunbridge Wells, and Norwich ; but they have no recent 
 knowledge of his proceedings. I have written to him, 
 and can get no reiply. You will acknowledge that I have 
 cause for anxiety when I tell you that in a work I have 
 lately been reading, it is said, vnth. regard to fleshpots, 
 that he who giveth his heart to them is on the highroad 
 to perdition. Which was truly and sadly the case with 
 this named Tuck. A dangerous man. Sir ! for he tempteth 
 us to love this hfe, and esteems it a cherishable thing : 
 yet, withal, one whom to Imow once is to desire ever. For 
 indeed such a one is seldom seen. Pity that such roseate 
 healthful bloom as that he wore upon the cheeks of him 
 should be a banner of Repletion ! Alas ! and that the 
 sunny perfection delighting us in him signified verily, 
 that Nature, though proud of this, struggled greatly. 
 Even so, the notable rotundity, the fine protuberance, 
 was excess of Potatoe ! Yea, and also the very perfect- 
 ness of him partoolc too largely of Francatelli. Hence 
 my fear for the man : in that he, who was good himself 
 as an egg fresh-laid, had a love of things good, and did 
 attract them to him profusely : which is against one of
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 87 
 
 the decrees. Dear Sir ! Should you see him, and the 
 faithful and loving spouse, be as good as to make Imown 
 to him these my enquiries ; and that, should he be ill, 
 I recommend any cure but the Epicure : moreover (which 
 he will understand) that I trust among the chief things 
 in his life, that ' WE ' may never be split in 2. Finally, 
 that I am in Norwich till Tuesday next, after that 
 Chapman & Hall, Piccadilly 's my address, ... If gout 
 permit him to use a pen. Gout alone can have kept 
 him silent to his loving friend and admirer. I would wash 
 him to know that Sons are weU and happy, had a great 
 fall at GjTiinastics last evening, being adventurous, but 
 are none the worse. — Yours respectfully, 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 The School House, Norwich. 
 
 My dear Maxse, — . . . I can't leave here till Tuesday. 
 They provide all kinds of amusement for me. By the 
 way, Arthur had a tremendous fall, the night before last, 
 at gjTnnastics in the crypt of the School House. WTiile 
 we were all engaged at a particular swing, this small 
 man mounts up a ladder to catch hold of a pole — misses 
 it, and comes down about sixteen feet, not on his head, 
 or arms, thank the Lord ! I felt a shght tug at m.y 
 hand, and the httle feUow related his disaster, shaken 
 and sick, but pluck as stout as ever. No harm done, 
 and some experience gained. I "wdll give you an account 
 of the school when we meet. Yesterday I visited a 
 model Englishman ; primarily a gentleman and scholar : 
 a Reverend, also, with full tolerance and zeal for his 
 duties : a farmer, a gardener, and exhibitor of fruits and 
 flowers, and \^dnner of prizes : an innovator in all things, 
 as a man who in all things thinks for himself. He is 
 besides a profound geologist and correspondent of LyeU :
 
 88 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 a paleontologist, the friend of Owen : one of the Alpine 
 climbers : — in short, the most capable human creature 
 that I have ever met. Be sure I studied him. He did 
 me the favour to invite me to stay with him, which to 
 my regret I can't do now. . . . — Your faithful and loving 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 Oct. 11, 1862. 
 
 Embrace me once more. Oh Tuck ! Thou liv'st ! 
 This is to chronicle the sudden and unexpected descent 
 of the small man from a height of 17 feet to the ground. 
 Poor Sons little intended the feat and therefore performed 
 it satisfactorily. In the Crypt here, there is a Gym- 
 nasium, fitted up under a regular professor, who is fifth 
 master. One Reimicke. He did this and that, he went 
 in and out of this and the other, and his pupils did the 
 like. Apparently Sons had their emulation violently 
 excited, for whilst we were aU engaged with other wonders. 
 Sons must mount a ladder by himself, and from the top 
 of it make a catch at a pole from whence to slip down 
 naturally, instead of which he came plump on to the 
 floor. I felt him tugging gently at my hand, and could 
 not make out what was the matter with him. He had 
 come to tell me that he felt queer, and what he had 
 * gone and done.' I took him up and his nerves gave 
 way just a moment (not noisily). Then we rubbed him 
 a bit and discovered him to be sound. He was joUy 
 and ready for fresh adventures in | of an hour ; wiser 
 Sons, as we trust. My parental heart beat fast under its 
 mask. Jessopp and his wife (who is one of the wives of 
 the generation) do all that is possible to make mo happy 
 in my own way. They do not want me to go. They 
 do not poetise me but honour me by treating me as 
 simple flesh, so that one does not feel mounted on a pole 
 a^ad ultimately destined to come down as Sons did.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 89 
 
 Yesterday I went to visit a splendid fellow, one of the 
 most capable men of his time. Whereof when we meet. 
 I stay with Morison in town. Shall I dine with you on 
 Wednesday ? He is alone, if you could ask him too. I 
 wrote to Mr. Hardman for tidings of you ; but anticipate 
 no reply — stuck-up Cambridge Swell ! Tuck for me ! My 
 love to everybody. Geoege M. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 Nov. 6, 1862. 
 Tuck, carissimo ! — The news being this : Jeff hasn't 
 got R. Houdin. If it is to be had at Nutt's or Dulau's, 
 it will be immediately forwarded to you. Lucas we 
 visited apropos of that fellow Hardman's article. It is 
 to be inserted soon. I told Lucas Hardman was not 
 a fellow to be trifled with : said * he was a Gastronome ! ' 
 ' Oh Lord ! ' says Lucas, * we mustn't offend him/ I 
 remarked that Hardman had invented New Dishes. 
 ' God bless my soul,' ssljs Lucas, * I should like to know 
 him.' * But,' said I, ' the Culmary comments of Tuck, 
 dehvered under globular light, are not these meat, wme, 
 and wisdom, and eclipse Hardman as a Christmas flank 
 of beef lords it over the leaner seasons of the year ? ' 
 * By Jingo,' says Lucas, ' it is a privilege to know him ! ' 
 Steadily facing my Editor, I said : ' And Tuck is my 
 pupil.' He rung my hand speechless. * All I exact,' 
 said I, * is that you publish " Tar and Feathers " instanter, 
 or you experience the operation.' He made sign that 
 it should be done within a month. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 COPSHAM, ESHER, Nov. 12, 18C2. 
 
 Tuck, Great Heart ! — I will come to you to-morrow, 
 and dine and hear music, and sleep, if you can take me. 
 Dinner with * 0. a W.' postponed. Still we carpenter. It
 
 90 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 is great exercise. I have half cut my great toe off already. 
 Axe went slap through my big plodding boots and set me 
 dancing over the meadow as if Demitroia had struck up 
 the Tarantella. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 Dec. 10, 1862. 
 
 To-day, you know, I dine with Morison. 
 Is there a dinner with Tuck on the horizon ? 
 
 Tuck, my treasure ! Tuck, my pleasure ! 
 Lucas won't have a meeting at the ' Cheshire 
 Cheese ' till after Christmas — truly, 
 He 's a bore and I 'm yours duly, 
 
 RoEm. 
 
 PS. — And if you love me, write and say so. 
 
 ' Quseque cupit, sperat,' sings Ovidius Naso. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 Dec. 13, 1862. 
 
 Deab Tuck, — In reply to your Mandate this day 
 received : Sons come up on Wednesday and sleep in 
 town that night : but how can I possibly keep him from 
 Copsham on Thursday ? I fear me I must take him 
 down. It was his special request six weeks ago. 
 
 And the' my Friar's mandate is severe, 
 The wishes of the sons of sons are dear. 
 
 I really fear 
 I must bring home my little man on Thursday : 
 (As you would rhyme) that he may in the furze play. 
 
 Acknowledge that a Friar cannot always be obhged. 
 I shall regret not to see the King and Queen of B. 
 
 Thine, Rob.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 91 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 Dec. 13, 1862. 
 
 From Gentz's Diary. Tage-Biicher von Frieclrich 
 von Gentz. Ed. Varnhagen v. Ense, ' J'ai lu le soir les 
 feuilles infernales de Cobbett.' 
 
 1 du mois d'avril (he reads it on Friday, 21st July 
 1809 — shortly upon Wagram, I think, or Lobau on the 
 Danube : ' La crainte, que je nourrissais depuis quelque 
 temps de quelque grave catastrophe, menagant Tinterieur 
 de TAngleterre, a ete prodigieusement augmentee par cette 
 lecture, dont Teffet sur moi — je ne puis le dissimuler — a 
 ete presque aussi grand que celui des plus epouvantables 
 nouvelles qui retentissaient dans mon voisinage direct.') 
 
 Gentz was, by birth, a Prussian, in the Austrian 
 diplomatic service, of high abihty, much trusted, con- 
 versant with Enghsh pohtics and Enghsh pohticians, the 
 friend of Metternich and others. He writes this cer- 
 tainly under excitement, but it is useful as showing the 
 dread Cobbett could inspire abroad, the view taken on 
 the continent of his writings and their presumed results. 
 
 Gentz evidently confounds him as utter Radical. 
 Perhaps you might look out in Cobbett 's Register, of this 
 date, and see what 's to be gathered. At any rate, what 
 I have written out, might make a good foot-note illus- 
 tration. ^ 
 
 To Tuck from Robin 
 
 Sons come on Wednesday ! — Demitroi'a will translate the 
 
 French 
 For you, I am sure, if you ask her humbly. 
 In concord and with reverence. Adieu, my lustj^ Friar. 
 Adieu, adieu, my Friar, he cried ; 
 0, much I trust that they have lied, who tell these things 
 
 of you. 
 
 ^ William Ilardinan was tiion at work upon a life of Cobbett, wliicli 
 was, however, put aside when he learned tliat John Morlej was at 
 work upon the same subject.
 
 92 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 To Arthur G. Meredith. 
 
 Dec. 15, 1862. 
 
 My darling little Man ! — I shall be at Shoreditch 
 station, on Wednesday, to meet the Train at 6.30. But, 
 you must not be disappointed, if I tell you that it will be 
 too late for you to go on to Esher that night ; and you 
 will sleep at Mrs. Morison's, in Porchester Square. Mr. 
 Hardman wants me to dine with him on Thursday, but 
 I have told him I am afraid you won't let me. Copsham 
 will be delighted to see you. All the dear old woods are 
 in their best winter dress. Mossy Gordon has come from 
 Eton. Janet leaves England next week ; but hopes to 
 see her dear boy before she goes. — Be careful not to have 
 any larks in the train. Only fools do that. As much fun 
 as you like, but no folly. Look out for Ely Cathedral, 
 just before you get to Ely station. At Cambridge you 
 will see the four towers of ' King's ' Chapel, built by 
 Cardinal Wolsey. Tell Angove, that I will get a bed for 
 him, if he wishes to sleep in Town on Wednesday night. 
 And give Angove your address, written down ; that he 
 may let me know when he will come to London from 
 Cornwall, and we will go to the theatre together, and 
 then he will take you to school again. — Your lovmg Papa, 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To the Rev. Augustus Jessopp. 
 
 EsHEE, Dec. 23, 1862. 
 
 My dear Jessopp, — I found my little man looking 
 marvellously brisk and clear of eye. All his friends ex- 
 claim that his school agrees with him. I am altogether 
 pleased and satisfied, and (quoique pauvre diable, comme 
 vous savez) should ungrudgingly pay double the annual 
 sum, to have him with you and your wife, which I con- 
 sider a privilege not to be measured by money.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 93 
 
 I presume that if I send to Bankers at Norwich, accord- 
 ing to directions, before the next session, it will do. 
 
 I am amused from morning to night by Arthur's account 
 of the ' boys.' It is as I suspected : he knows their 
 characters consummately. I had the same faculty 
 when I was young. But, whether he gets it from de- 
 duction, or nervous feelers, or the conjunction of both, 
 I can't guess. He hopes to get a prize next year : speaks 
 of his success in ' dictation ' ; not boastingly ; but to 
 assure him whom he suspects to be a sceptical Papa, that 
 he is not lazy and not stupid. He is not, absolutely, 
 either of the two. He is pre-eminently a growing boy, 
 and has some characteristics to outgrow. He wiU never, 
 I fancy, do credit to you by any display of acquired 
 knowledge ; but, after a period, I think you will find 
 that his understanding is as sound as that of any fellow 
 you have had to do with. 
 
 He says : ' Jerrard, minor, is the gentlemanly boy of 
 the School.' 
 
 ' Not Angove,' I asked. 
 
 ' Yes, Angove, too ; but he 's not so courteous as 
 Jerrard minor. Jerrard minor always thinks of others 
 first. I like him.' 
 
 The one point he evidently a httle chafes at (though 
 not complainingly, and with submission, poor mart}^* !) 
 is the Sunday religious exercise, which you have dared 
 to temper for the poor lambs, and which they must stiU 
 think severe. I remember, at that age, how all love of 
 the Apostles was belaboured out of me by three Sunday 
 services of prodigious length and drowsiness. * Corin- 
 thians ' wiU forever be associated in my mind with rows 
 of wax candles and a holy drone overhead, combined 
 with the sensation that those who did not choose the 
 road to Heaven, enjoyed by far the pleasantcst way. 
 I cannot hear of Genesis, or of the sins of amorous David,
 
 94 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 or of Hezekiah, without fidgetting in my chair, as if it 
 had turned to the utterly unsympathetic Church-wood 
 of yore. In despair, I used to begin a fresh chapter of 
 the adventures of St. George (a serial story, continued 
 from Sunday to Sunday), and carry it on till the preacher's 
 voice fell. Sometimes he deceived me (I hope, not volun- 
 tarily) and his voice bade St. George go back into his box, 
 and then ascended in renewed vigour once more ; leaving 
 me vacant of my comforting hero ; who was not to bo 
 revived, after such treatment. I have known subsequent 
 hours of ennui : but nothhig to be compared with those 
 early ones. Your evening service is a noble relief, your 
 evening discourse most sensible, healthy and calculated 
 to catch the wandering, youthful mind. But, it is the 
 third dose of the day. Is it, therefore, appreciated ? I 
 know you can't change the system, even tho' you should 
 view the case as I view it. I am merely prattling. I 
 think the drill an admirable idea for an assemblage of 
 anchorites. The future monk will be most grateful for 
 it. I fear the future man will revenge himself. 
 
 I think my friend's j^acht starts on the 7th January. 
 It will be away about six days. I shall be back at Esher 
 in time. But at that period keep me informed of your 
 place of abode. I would not miss you for any number 
 of yacht excursions. On this occasion (snow promising, 
 or stiff gales) I go to please my friend, more than myself. 
 
 All that a thankful Papa can say, to the Lady of three 
 Pussies black ! — Alack ! — ^was not the omen a death ? 
 
 The best thing I can wish you at this season is. Strength 
 to conquer the Christmas puddmg ! I would that I dined 
 at home ! I would eat by the dictates of common sense 
 and a discreet appetite. As it is I plunge with knowledge 
 aforethought into a week's dyspepsia. I shall be ridden 
 all night by a plum-pudding-headcd hag : shall taste the 
 horrors without the vacuity of Death ! We will hope
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 95 
 
 better things for our grandchildren. Or, are we simply 
 degenerate stomachs ? and ought we to eat the fearful 
 dainty (the British Cook's one Great Conception) with 
 gratulation ? — ^Adieu ! — ^Your faithful 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 EsHER, Dec. 23, 1862. 
 
 My Christmas Tuck ! — I am preparing for the pudding 
 with tremendous exercise. I had made up Ta.y mind to 
 go with you to Boxing Night festivity, with Sons like- 
 wise. But, he -woQ not like the Strand. He is ardent 
 for a jolly Clown, a Pantaloon of the most aged, the 
 most hopeless, a twirling Columbine, a Harlequin with 
 a wand on everj^body's bottom. This does the small 
 man seriously incline to. Can I say Nay ? And he finds 
 he detests Plays and Burlesques. 1 remember his last 
 visit to the Strand. He is too young for puns, so, if you 
 have taken tickets, sad shall I be : but I am for Drury 
 Lane, or Co vent Garden : for uproar ; a pit reeking with 
 oranges ; gods that flourish pewi;er-pots and tricks that 
 stick and show their mortahty at startmg. Would, would, 
 would that Tuck were then at my side ! I declare that I 
 have swung my beetle ^ and roared at anticipated head- 
 long fun with Tuck. 1 would go to both ; but, you see, 
 I have again promised the Son. I must go the following 
 night, and there is the further loss of time, if I disappoint 
 him. I understood you distinctly a Pantomime, buUy 
 Tuck ! Do we quarrel ? If so, I send Love to Some- 
 body and snap my fingers at you. If not, my regards of 
 the warmest to both. — Your affectionate 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 * The beetle — an iron weight at the end of a wooden shaft ; this 
 was thrown into the air and caught again by the shaft. There is little 
 doubt that it was this exercise which largely contributed to liis spinal 
 weakness in later years.
 
 96 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 EsHEE, Isll.ind of Copsham 
 Jan. 6, 1863. 
 
 TcrcK, ahoy ! Messmate ! This is the weather for 
 yachting. Yo — ho — hoi ! 
 
 The ' Irene ' tugs and runs amuck 
 At all she meets on Ocean bobbin' : 
 Hard to the taffrail clutches Tuck : 
 There 's Httle of the Cock in ' Robin ' ! 
 
 Below, discussing pipes and beer, 
 And all that may and all that mayn't be, 
 St. Bernard says that he feels queer, 
 And queerer still feels Mrs. St. B. 
 
 James Parthenon of tempest tells 
 5 jolly yachtsmen once were lost in ; 
 Pales the red cheek of Tuck, as swells 
 With ocean's roll the gorge of Austin. 
 
 ' Now, do you think, you Argue-nots,' 
 St. Bernard asks, ' seasick was Jason ? ' 
 The Jolly yachtsmen eye their cots, 
 Austin cries ' Ho ! ' — and Tuck ' A basin ! ' 
 
 St. Bernard hurries on the deck : 
 Not long his chattering teeth have kept tune 
 To waves that threat the ' Irene's ' wreck. 
 When one bears oS his pipe to Neptune ! 
 
 Then Tuck, half doubting he 's afloat, 
 Rolls up, with eyas, all greeny-sheeny : 
 Clutches St. Bernard at the throat : 
 ' Tell me ! Did Cubitt^ build the " Irene " ? ' 
 
 ^ Cubitt, builder of Gordon Street and a wide area in the Bloomsbury 
 district, in which Hardman'a home was situated. Cubitt was one of 
 the best builders in London, or, indeed, in England, and his houses 
 are noted for their excoUeut construction.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 97 
 
 Five jolly yachtsmen ! Yachtsmen five ! 
 And have you seen five jolly yachtsmen ? 
 If they 're not dead, why they 're alive : 
 They 're sprawling mid the pipes and potsmen ! 
 
 The ghostly yacht which now you '11 see 
 
 Go sailing up the British Channel, 
 
 A Poet and a Friar there '11 be 
 
 On board : the latter frock'd in flannel. 
 
 Like Lucifers with lobsters dash'd, 
 
 The hue upon their cheeks and noses. 
 
 The Friar cries loud : ' Our fate we 've hash'd. 
 
 AVhy sail'd we not i' the time of roses ? ' 
 
 ' There was a place called Gordon Street ; 
 A planet known as Francatelli,' 
 
 (Here the Friar ventures on familiar and non-admissible 
 rhymes. He is dismissed to seek companionship with 
 the Flying Dutchman.) 
 
 Tuck of the Earth ! I cannot come to you to-morrow, 
 as I have to go to Chelsea. I think St. Bernard will ask 
 me to him for Thursday. I doubt if we meet this week. 
 If you have aught pressing to communicate, address — 
 16 Cheyiie Walk, Chelsea, S.W. Adieu. — Your loving 
 
 George M. 
 
 A letter from Tasmania has reached me ' Saved from 
 wreck of Colombo.' 
 
 To the Rev. Augiistus Jessopp. 
 
 EsHER, Surrey, Jan. 7, 1863. 
 My dear Jessopp, — Will you come on Friday evening, 
 at 6 P.M., next week ? I hope you will stay the day 
 
 VOL. I. — G
 
 98 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 following at least. I am too modest to press the cottage 
 strongly upon j'^ou, and bid you do as it seemeth best 
 to you. 
 
 In the matter of Anchorites. Do you really beheve 
 them to have been men of thews and breadth of brow ? 
 Yes, if they have slaughtered their dozens and begin to 
 think Heaven a pleasant resting-place. As a rule, No. 
 Endurance is not a test of the fact. The physi-cally 
 robust man would have wasted and succumbed. The 
 bilious and nervous man will last longer than the san- 
 guine. Physiology will tell you much. Then again, can 
 I morally admire, or reverence, or see positive virtue in, 
 St. Simeon ? Was he a hero, of his kind ? Does the 
 contemplation of him brmg us nearer to God ? To what 
 a God ! I turn aching in all my flesh to ad«re the Pagan, 
 in preference. He smites kind nature in the face, to please 
 his God ! — St Sim. may be a very strong man. Granting 
 it, I shall think more of Milo. He tears up the groan- 
 ing oak, which I hold better than to pluck with fanatic 
 fingers at the roots of humanity. — Don't you see that it 
 is not adoration moves the stinking Samt, but, basest of 
 prostrations, Terror. Terror, mighty to knit a man for 
 endurance when allied to a crmgmg greed for a fair 
 celestial seat. — The truth is, you sniff the sublime in this 
 creature. Your secret passion is for sublimity. Beauty 
 you love ; but, by the way, under protest ; and with 
 the sense of being a siimer. Clerical training is to blame. 
 But, change the system. Beauty is to be sought — let 
 sublimity come. Both are rare : but the former is our 
 portion — belongs to us. To deface it, is not sublime — 
 villainous, rather ! To outrage reason as well as beauty, 
 shows the organisation of a ruffian. Be not misled by 
 this dirty piece of picturesque Rehgiosity, animated : 
 my gorge rises ! I hold my nostrils. I cry for a South- 
 west wind to arise. Plunge them into the pit, Lord !
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 99 
 
 these worshippers of the pillar. — ' Cujus ad effigiem, 
 tantum non meiere, fas est,' — Your faithful 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 Garrick Club. 
 
 My dear Fred, — ' Rhoda ' now rushes to an end. 
 I don't at all know what to think of the work. I am 
 confused by this frost. It nips and impoverishes me. 
 
 By the way : — What of the dog ? If you haven't heard 
 of him, it is by no means improbable that he has left the 
 neighbourhood, the County, the south-west, in fact, and 
 trotted back to Yorkshire. The CoUey is famous for 
 his ' sagacity ' as the Natural History books say, in this 
 respect ; and wiU find his way back to a point in Scotland 
 out of England. ' 
 
 Please write. You haven't my excuse. I see you in 
 that dear httle room, warm, with one eye on a winter 
 prospect, snow and black river between the banks. — 
 Tell me, how the frost takes you ; kindly or not. — 
 Gilmore, a propos of acting and art, is powerful. He is 
 a thorough ' Gallery ' critic — abates, adores, flings his 
 orange-peel and empties his brandy-flask, and is quite 
 satisfied with himself at the conclusion. 
 
 IMiss Bateman is said to have failed as ' Julia.' I can 
 see that to be possible, though I bow to her Leah. Let 
 me have a letter speedil3^ — Yours lovingly, 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 Jan. 28, 1S63. 
 
 Dear ' at any price ' Tuck ! — I come. Dinner j'-ou 
 give me at half -past five, I presume ? A note to Foakes- 
 den, if earlier. Let us have 5 ms. for a pipe, before 
 we go. You know we are always better tempered when
 
 100 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 this is the case. I come in full dress. And do the honour 
 to the Duke's motto. I saw my Uttle man ofi on Monday, 
 after expedition over Bank and Tower. Thence to 
 Pym's, Poultry : oysters consumed by dozings. Thence 
 to Purcell's : great devastation of pastry. Thence to 
 Shoreditch, where Sons calmly said : ' Never mind, 
 Papa ; it is no use minding it. I shall soon be back to 
 you,' and so administered comfort to his forlorn Dad. — 
 My salute to the Conquered One, and I am, your loving, 
 hard-druv, much be-bulhed Robin. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 CopSHAM, Feb. 1, 1863. 
 
 Dear Tuck ! — Come, if you can tear yourself away, on 
 Wednesday. Dinner at 6|, Orridge and wife, Wyn- 
 dowe. Robin, most anxious. . . . We are likely to 
 have a good fine blowing afternoon for the heath and 
 the woods : I say no more. Only 
 
 Write me no pretty note 
 Puling excuses. 
 Scorned by the Muses, 
 Who 's tied to a petticoat ! 
 
 A new receipt : — I try it on Orridge to-night. * Lark 
 Pood'n.' * A bottom of stout juicy steak, topped by 2 doz. 
 I bearded oysters, topped by 1 doz. larks.' General 
 sentiment by anticipation — ' Gallopschtious ! ' I have 
 an idea that 2 kidneys might be introduced. I have 
 hitherto refrained from touching a lark : not wishing 
 that divine bird to send reproaches to me from heaven 
 and fill the foundation of my digestion with remorse. 
 Do I degenerate ? Is it recklessness ? Or the noble 
 prosecution of science, the wish to know aU ? — Adieu ! 
 It is friendship that says ' Come ! ' What reply ?
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 101 
 
 No, he wouldn't leave his wife 
 And he shouldn't leave his wife. 
 He didn't go to Copsham 
 'Cause he couldn't leave his wife. 
 
 Robin Laurelpate. 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 ESHER. 
 
 My dear Maxse, — The principle of health is this, to 
 make good blood plentifully, and to distribute it pro- 
 perly. Exercise of the right sort, acting on seasonable 
 diet, keeps the machine clear. Sweating saves us from 
 impurities, at all events. The form of exercise must 
 depend upon observation of our peculiar economy. As 
 a rule, walking much is only good for people in health, 
 any other exercise you can stop the moment you Ve had 
 enough : but you can't exactly time your distances : 
 and the instantaneous effect of fatigue, where there 's one 
 weak function, is to fall upon it bodily. A weak stomach 
 is thus awfully oppressed by long walks. . . . 
 
 My best soUtary exercise is throwing the beetle — a 
 huge mallet weighing 18 or 19 pounds — and catching the 
 handle, performing wondrous tricks therewith. The best 
 in the world is fencing, which braces the nerves, tightens 
 muscles, occupies brain, better than anything going : 
 contains fit measure of excitement and is thorough exer- 
 cise. Boxing is a little brutal, though good. Fencing 
 brightens the eye without blackening it. Avoid beer, 
 which is gaseous exceedingly. You see, very old ale is 
 too strong for the head, if drunk as ale : and the young 
 unseasoned beer we drink has to be digested with diffi- 
 culty. Avoid new wines. A bottle of oldish claret might 
 serve you four days. See that it 's good and sound. 
 That makes blood without heating. Your evenings — 
 but what are an Englishman's evenings ? Hotbeds of
 
 102 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 dyspepsia, as a rule. There should be Uveliness, music, 
 billiards, dancing, dialogue, laughter — choice of all these. 
 Instead of which — I ask you ! 
 
 Don't drive your mind a step. 
 
 I hope I shall come to you soon, and then we 'U see 
 better what your condition is. We must hear the nightin- 
 gales together. Last night I had them all round me on 
 the heath. The woods were one orchestral semicircle. 
 What priceless weather, my friend ! And how of your 
 Ladj^e ? Ah, happy you ! At this season what a beggar 
 am I, that hold out my hand and touch space at my 
 fingers' ends ! Back comes the blood to my heart, which 
 says, ' WeU ! let 's strike on like a hammer, then ! ' 
 Ding-dong, is my tune. 
 
 I saw Borthwick the other day, and see that your 
 brother has got Hehgoland, where his wife will help to 
 make him popular. Altogether a good appointment, 
 my Lord ! Here the Princesse Frangoise marries the 
 Due de Chartres. First cousins ! But necessity of state 
 overbears the duties of flesh. They must marry some- 
 thing Royal, and what if their children howl, or hang 
 limp, so long as the blood is kept pure ? — The philosopher 
 laughs sadly at these things. He inclines to say ' Down 
 with Institutions ! ' They do much for us — do they not 
 undo more ? The truth is that everything that is would 
 be right (according to the optimist, who sees half the 
 truth) would be right, I say, if we were just wise enough 
 to pluck the flower and not tie ourselves to the roots. 
 So the age of an Institution (quiconque) becomes the 
 slavery of its supporters. To know when a thing hath 
 perished, or is vital, is one of the tests of wisdom. Figure 
 to yourself a lover who hears a voice in his ghastly bosom, 
 demanding answer to the question, ' Was it all delusion ? ' 
 And thus he bases his logic — * Impossible ; it could not 
 be delusion, for the dream was so immense, the rapture
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 103 
 
 so heavenly.' We all cling to the days that were and 
 won't be sons of Time. To be the sticks and stones of a 
 glorified past day we think better. — Better be men, I 
 say ! 
 
 Alas ! those visits of the meek and guileless clergy ! 
 Thou errant one, that art invited to archery Meetings ! — 
 'tis to the pew thou art being lured, or dragged perforce. 
 — Love to boy. My kindest regards to your beloved, 
 and know me ever, your loving George M. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 Piccadilly, March 20, 1863. 
 
 Tuck, Great Archer ! — Thrice thy shaft has hit me ! 
 — On Thursday night we meet at Robert Cook's. On 
 Wednesday I shall dine with thee ? I am overwhelmed 
 with disgust at ' Emilia.' Am hurrying her on like Ye 
 Deuce. She will do. But, ahem ! — she must pay. I 
 have taken some trouble with her and really shall begin 
 to think her character weak in this respect, if she don't 
 hand m what I think due, speedily. I 'm afraid, con- 
 sidering hopes of cash, house to build, linen to buy, that 
 ' Once a Week ' will hold me from St. B. and the Blue 
 Medi T. . . . Longing to see you, and with L. to a person 
 who will pardon the impudence, and is not of the great 
 host who care onljT' to see 2 strokes put through the 
 middle of that eloquent letter. — Your devoted 
 
 George M. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 CorsH^vM, April 8, 1863. 
 
 Your medicines and directions came opportunely,^ 
 deciding me not to send for Izod. Sons are as a mul- 
 berry in the shade, they are spotted hke a Pard, they are 
 
 ^ Arthur had caught measles. Hardman was an enthusiastic 
 homoeopath, in which belief Meredith shared.
 
 104 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 hot as boiled cod in a napkin ; they care for nothing but 
 barley water, which I find myself administering at all 
 hours of the night, and think it tolerable bhss, and just 
 worth living for, to suck an orange. I am sorry to say 
 they have a rather troublesome cough, otherwise all goes 
 well. — Your loving George M. 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 EsHEE, May 1863. 
 
 My dear Maxse, — I believe fully that the globules 
 are efficacious. I have seen them produce the effects 
 specifically intended. 
 
 Vegetable diet is generator of gases in a weak stomach. 
 Moreover the pasturing on grass does not make a soul 
 milder. My experience is this : that no healthy person 
 ever takes to vegetable diet, excluding meat : but that 
 some people may make themselves more clean and sound 
 if they do so, for the reason that weak blood is apt 
 to be irritated b}^ the juices of flesh, which are too strong 
 for it. All that I have ever known take to vegetable 
 diet were scrofulous, in the second or third degree : not 
 robust and pure. The best thing, now and then, is a 
 chop and bread for dinner. If the stomach is quite 
 down, eschew potatoes as well as beer. In exercise see 
 mainly that you open the chest. Don't sit long at a 
 time. Read out for a space. Rise quickly in the morn- 
 ing. Exercise after bath ; and pray do not be more 
 than half an hour without feeding, if you only take a 
 crust of bread and water. Your Moulsey habit of long 
 morning fasts, I remember. To bed early : but if you 
 feel heavy take dumb-bell exercise. This must bring 
 you round. Continue pepsiue, with now and then a halt. 
 Take no * iron.' A wineglass of quinine half an hour 
 before dinner for three or four days running might do 
 good. . . . — Your faithful George M.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 105 
 
 To the Rev. Augustus Jessopp. 
 
 EsHER, 1863. 
 
 My dear Jessopp, — There is a 10.57 train from London 
 to your City — which snatches small boys from the hearts 
 of their parents. On Tuesday next, my little recovered 
 rosy man will journey down, alone, by that train, chewing 
 the cud of anticipating fancy (I hope). The Guard will 
 be bribed to keep eye on him. Will you send some person 
 to meet him ? He will be somewhat at sea, with his 
 swoln bag, in the press of an arrival. 
 
 Thank Mrs. Jessopp, from me, for her last letter. 
 
 She will know, that, whatever inconsiderate relatives 
 might do, my care for the sanitary condition of K. 
 Ed. 6th's Grammar School is too great to permit me 
 to allow a convalescent to return without performance 
 of proper quarantine. I expect great praise from her. 
 And indeed, my heart is heavy at parting. I let him go 
 from me now under a high sense of duty. What strange 
 dispensation is it which gives you my boy for the best 
 portion of his young years ? 
 
 I am in alarm about his boating on your river before 
 he can swim. 
 
 Is there always some responsible, careful fellow in the 
 boats with the youngsters ? Pra}^ tell me. 
 
 And also, write to me, I beg, to let me know that he 
 comes safe to you. Address, Chapman & HaU, for 
 Wednesday morning. 
 
 As to your book, those pubhshers will not do. I should 
 certainly put my finger on MacmiUan. If not, then 
 Longman, who is a gentleman, as well as man of business. 
 
 I had the pleasure of exchanging salutes with 
 Mr. Jessopp of Cheshunt on Friday morning, as I was 
 returning from Hoddesdon.
 
 106 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 If you will take me in for a few days at the end of 
 May or beginning of June, I wiU gladly come, and see 
 some cricket, among other things. — Your very faithful 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 June 30, 1863. 
 
 The Record 
 
 Of Robin's sad Effort to 
 
 Fool 
 
 For the Beguilement of his Sov. Lord 
 
 Tuck 
 
 ' A lady, the other day, having cut half her acquaintance, 
 cut her own finger I ' Nay, my Lord, spare the lash 1 
 I will get better. Robin, on being told that he was 
 imitating the jesting of Bumand, replied : ' Didn't I teU 
 you I was robbin' Bumand ! ' Ha ! Ha ! — ^\Miat ! 
 Still frowns my Lord ? 
 
 On receiving your commands, I thought first of hunting 
 up the King and Queen ^ for matter new and strange : but 
 calls upon me kept me from them. I dined yesterday 
 
 with one C , Lord CarUsle's Secretary, who met 
 
 Swinburne at Mihies's, and got him to brmg about a 
 meeting ; after which, to astonishment of Poet, said P. 
 was dropped. We dined at St. James's Club, after passing 
 the afternoon at Lord's Cricket Ground, where we saw 
 Gentlemen against Players. First-rate match, and I had 
 a fine set of characters about me : old country squires ; 
 knights and lords ; old cricketing hands hot for the 
 
 honour of the game. Notably a Colonel M amused 
 
 me, and shall see himself if he looks one day in a book 
 
 ^ Mr. and Jlra. Stephen Hamilton.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 107 
 
 of mine. Then in the evening talks C of ME : of the 
 
 effect of my work on him : and to the effect that in the 
 circles he best knew, your Robin had made impression 
 deep. That : that : and that ! — He 's a nice fellow ; 
 with good sense : handsome. . . . 
 
 To William Hardman, 
 
 July 4, 1863. 
 
 Dropping out of Chapman and Hall's the other day, I 
 fell on the placid face of Poco,i who, without a ruffle of 
 his surface received me, that would have sent a hundred 
 million ripples crossing rosily over Tuck. The Senor 
 Poco spoke of a bad man — ^poor vulgarian, that he is ! 
 and without reverence, or holiness. Not yet of the 
 Elect, yet is this foreigner hopeful, and one, let us hope, 
 as we may, of a right promising future. He hath desire 
 in him for companionship among the Pantags : humble 
 desire ; and he taketh his occasional most healthful 
 snubbing. He is going to send you the ' Court Journal.' 
 
 . . . By the way, C told me that when Prins was at 
 
 Curragh he came to the Vice-Regal Lodge, and played 
 
 cricket. C warned all the opposition bowlers that 
 
 Royal patronage of the manly game depended on Prins 
 getting at least one run. Having missed whilst fielding, 
 two fine smack-into-the-hand catches, Wales goes in, and 
 faces an unnamed, steady, determined Briton of a bowler, 
 round, ruddy — an inevitable creature : one clearly 
 selected by the Gods to do this black business with the 
 utmost satisfaction and comfort. Down went the wicket 
 of your Prins at the first delivery of ball ! To make 
 matters worse, some wretches (not knowing that the 
 wicket was a royal one, or not feeling that the knocking 
 of it over was rank treason to the Throne and to cricket) 
 
 * Lionel Robinson.
 
 108 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 applauded lustily. Your Prins marched out with his bat 
 amid the thunders. 
 
 At the first ball his wicket fell, and sins 
 No more has batted your illustrious Prins. 
 
 There, Tuck ! Now don't say I am not out harvesting for 
 your dehght. And I '11 get more stories for you, don't fear I 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 July 1863. 
 
 Dearest Cupid — ^Tuck ! — I thought it all along ! 
 I said : ' This — my Friar whom I love — must be the Rosey 
 Boy, well plumped on British fare.' And now that the 
 G. M. (Oh ! — dost thou mark the similarity of initials 
 most wondrous ! Yea, is it not full of meaning !) ac- 
 knowledges that she came up the Mersey in a cockle-shell. 
 Tuck cannot deny that he is Cupidon. And 'tis he who 
 has twanged his bow and done Robin this dreadful 
 damage — Alack ! No more of this. But seriously, you, 
 leaning over the side of a fat Olympian cloud floating 
 over Copsham. I see you turn to Demitroia-Psyche. 
 ' Poor Robin,' you say. ' Let 's have him here,' says 
 she. ' He '11 never get to heaven,' says you, ' till a 
 woman brings him.' ' True,' sighs D-P. 
 
 (Damn that Tuck — ho kisses her, pretends she wants 
 to be consoled ! — Has Oljonpus no shades ?) 
 
 Write to me care of Maurice Fitz-Gerald, Esq., Scaford, 
 Sussex. I shall be there perchance a week, and yet a 
 day more, unless they gamble awfully. . . . 
 
 Why don't you tell me how your sisters are ? They 're 
 married, you know. You 're right to protect your 
 mother, but your sisters have husbands. Good-bye. 
 I hope to be able to spin hveUer rubbish when I have 
 taken rest, and seen new men, fresh faces, other minds. 
 
 George M.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 109 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 Seafobd, Hades, July 10, 1863. 
 
 Dear Tuck, — (A letter to the above address will find 
 me.) Oh ! — But rage and anguish stifle me ! I tell thee, 
 Tuck, — Why should I teU thee who carest not ? Here 
 am I — as an animal. Our life is monstrous. 
 
 My breakfast would supply a Workhouse : my 
 luncheons are equal to the refections of four fat Friars : 
 my dinner would satiate the soul of a ticl^et-of -leave man. 
 I go to bed when Apollo lays his red nose over the Eastern 
 hUl, and hght-foot hours carry it on their shoulders in 
 triumph to 27 Gordon Street, what time Tuck, with a 
 final snore, says, ' Blow it ! ' and consents to rise. . . . 
 Here is Frank Burnand that reeks puns from every pore : 
 Maurice and Gerald Fitzgerald, Signor Vignati, Hynd- 
 man (Cambridge), Lawrence, painter, and others coming. 
 I suppose I shall stop through next week. I don't think 
 it possible for me to start with you. Of course I shall 
 foUow you — don't fear ! You have a little wounded, 
 and shot an arrow at your Robin, for why couldn't you 
 wait for him ? Or consult with him about going ? 
 Still, I do give you my word that there is great probability 
 of my running over to join you during your last two 
 weeks. Write and say, before you go, what you fancy 
 will be your arrangements. And, O Tuck, write from 
 among the mountams, that will look on you, and teU me 
 of the hearts to whom your COMPANION shall have 
 imparted swift emotion and a habit of breathing. Of 
 Demitroia tell me. Of her health and spirits. . . . Tell 
 me of yourself fully. Say where you are to be found 
 in or about Thun ; and instruct me of the means of 
 getting to you. I had passionately desired to see great 
 wonders of creation with my Tuck, so that in days to
 
 110 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 come, when Robin is as a rushlight, and Tuck one of 
 Price's Patent Composite Tallow-vats, we two may say — 
 ' This we saw, and that we saw, green Alpine lakes where 
 the brides of the angels bathe ; snows pure as the fore- 
 head of YOUR COMPANION ; peaks, passes, and aU 
 the other P.'s ' : — onl^'', my Tuck, the subhme and 
 beautiful should for ever stand as witnesses of a marriage 
 of our true affection, the same being registered in verse 
 immortal by reason of the subject. 
 
 In Thun, you will see Jessopp : haply, may you hear 
 him out of tune (notes of Burnand). But, if you hear 
 him — Think of a Cockchafer informing the world that 
 his wife has run away from him : — so deep, so desolate the 
 voice of Jessopp. Take to thy mind Nature's bassest 
 note : conceive a voice milHons of fathoms below the 
 crust of earth : the incarnation of three Minor Canons 
 primed for their holy labours on port : a Cathedral voice : 
 a voice that you shake to and curiously look to see 
 whether one works his coat-tails as bellows to inflate and 
 give inspiration to such a voice : — even such the voice of 
 Jessopp. He desires very much to see and know you. 
 Do your best to meet him. I know that Demitroia has 
 exchanged words with his wife. Enough. Comfort my 
 heart with a letter or two. I am rather knoclced over 
 by seeing yoa depart, and feeling rather bound. I have 
 the consolation (Poor ! Poor !) of knowing that you will 
 long heartily for Gordon Street after a week's absence. 
 Well : Good-bye ! I wish you all joy. Demitroia, 
 your COMPANION, Hinchhffe, and the 3 joUy good 
 fellows rolled into the one Tuck, whom I know and love. 
 
 To Mrs. Hardman. 
 
 Seaford, Sussex, July 12, 1863. 
 
 Most fair and dp^ar Sceptic, — Now it was told of a 
 man that an angel leaned out of heaven and dropped to
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 111 
 
 him a ring, of which, he said, Catch hold : and the man 
 sought to catch hold : but ever the ring swayed, and its 
 swaying was the promise of bliss and the baffling of desire. 
 So the man thought. If I jump I catch it. And, lo, he 
 jumped. And at the first jump touched the ring, which 
 flew from him. At the second jump likewise, and in 
 addition his falhng was upon his nose. Even so he went 
 at the 3rd and 4th essay, and on. Then thought he : 
 This ring is cast so far from me because that an Angel 
 dropped it so near ! Alas ! What sadder thing is there 
 to the fuU heart of great wishes than the word ' Almost.' 
 If the man, dear Critic of weakness, had seen the said ring 
 distant, he had remarked — The birds of the air may 
 catch it ; but it hung within mortal grasp — almost ! 
 He could just touch it. The effort to seize sent it heaven- 
 ward — him to earth. Yet, Heaven ! as Ocean collects 
 her billows for one great jjlunge, I know not but that I 
 will try. I see that you are making a circuit, and that 
 the Wild Man of Gordon Street is for pranks, so to be 
 with you one must start with you. If you see me on 
 Tuesday it will be that I have come to to^vn to make 
 immediate arrangements for joming you for the reason 
 partly, that the Wild Man is not, in my opinion, a fitting 
 protector of — of you, of course he is (after a fashion), of, 
 I was going to say — and it is no use his frowning at Table 
 d'Hote ; for they vail openly admire a lovely woman on 
 the Continent : where, let me add. Beauty, if not jealously 
 watched and guarded . . . and the fresh EngUsh wild 
 rose without a disengaged hand and forecasting mind to 
 pave its way may be in danger' of a moment's sensitive 
 disquiet — at the contemplation of which possibility the 
 hearts within us do painfully pant and heave. But let 
 us talk seriously. Is your COMPANION quite well ? 
 May I beg you to present her with my kind regards. 
 Prompted by the fatherly feeling (which must exist
 
 112 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 though the position be denied to me) pray assure that 
 young lady that I am pervaded by the very warmest 
 interest in her welfare, and claim, by right of my expressed 
 admiration (that excessive daring might call affection) of 
 another and greater from whom she springs, to declare 
 that my sentiments on her behalf are parental in their 
 depth. 
 
 All this means that if I can, can, can — I will : that 
 there is just a chance : that I am going to make the spring, 
 and if the ring don't swing I may cling Uke anything, 
 and just be caught up to a six weeks' Heaven among you, 
 and nothing short of it under your wing. My state no 
 Weather-cock, with a thunder-storm on the South-east, 
 and the wind North-west, would describe. Pierrot 
 straightening hands and legs to dance facing the four 
 comers alternately would look foolish beside me. A 
 newly-caged wild cat might outwardly represent my 
 condition. I boil to come. I am frozen. There comes 
 a thaw. In a twinkling I am aU rosily rippling like a 
 summer sea in the calm confidence that I shall go. Then 
 blight falls. I find m3'^self stripped like a gladiator 
 fighting with a single sword against the three Women of 
 the Net and the Thread. A voice whispers : * If you 
 cut the net the thread wiU likewise be severed.' I swoon 
 and the hideous spectres cry, ' 'Tis done ! ' Oh, my dear 
 Madame ! Are you one of the Three : why do you teach 
 happy men to love you ? For I love not that Tuck at 
 all. He has taken to swearing of late. His letters come 
 on me louder than Blatchington Battery hard by, which 
 blew off a volunteer artilleryman to Neptune's bosom 
 some time ago. I say 1 love not that Tuck. He is 
 profane : a puffed out insolent Friar — who goes about 
 saying that He is the better half of ' WE.' If I come 
 I shall delight in the snubbing of him. My Goodness ! 
 Suppose, after aU, I do not come ! It is of no use looking
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 113 
 
 into that enormous Black Pit. Daylight is with you, 
 dear Mrs, Aurora ! And I hope that in subscribing my- 
 self I may really prove as responsive to the ray of light 
 received from you this morning as did the Stoney Harpist 
 of old, and so earn the right to be your ever nothing other 
 than George Mejinon. 
 
 PS. — I send my love to the household. 
 
 IST.B. — ^Tell me who has got most in the scramble. 
 And Oh ! Please somebody wish that I may get a fillip 
 of encouragement on Tuesday morning here, and shall 
 perhaps shut my eyes and let my heart steer me — which 
 it doesn't always do badly, does it ? — Not falsely, I am 
 sure. And if, poor fellow, he goes wrong and meant right, 
 why he 's certain to lead one to experience, which, taken 
 properly, is wealth, wisdom ! — and Hurrah ! 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 Seaford, July 14, 1863. 
 
 I find I cannot get the reading and Foakes both done ; 
 and so collapse like a demnition bladder. Woe 's me, 
 Tuck! 
 
 Chapman must have some MSS. immediately read. 
 On the whole, I do see that it 's the right thing for me to 
 work straight on this year. I lose a great pleasure, dear 
 Tuck ! Think of me. If you can spare time, or are 
 blessed with a rainy day, write to me. My warmest 
 salute to Demitroia. The same, properly clipped and 
 cooled, to Your Companion. My love to you. All joy 
 with you, I had ordered a travelling suit and got half 
 ready to come ! — Yours lastingly, Geokge M. 
 
 VOL. I. — H
 
 114 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 CopsHAM, July 19, 1863. 
 
 . . . Lucas wants me to begin in * 0. a W.' the end of 
 October. I do not think I can. And how can I possibly 
 . . . and my last chapter of Emilia to retouch and the 
 proofs . . . Le Pauvre Lucas ! , . . Let me tell you 
 that Poco has this day gained, after 3 astounding efforts, 
 admission to the ranks of the Pantagruehans. ... Of 
 Sons, let me say, that they are wonderfully browned by 
 Seaford sun and breeze and very jolly. If I come, he 
 will stay at Copsham. 
 
 Tuck ! I don't think :— 
 
 ' No more,' the dark Confessor said ! 
 ' I know him : one of many thou ! 
 He, when thy heart is won, is fled : 
 For ages he has done as now. 
 
 ' There is no hope : thou canst not rest : 
 Obedient to his wanton whim. 
 Yea, North and East, and South and West, 
 For ever must thou follow him. 
 
 ' Young Cupid was he called of old : 
 That Will o' Wisp incorporate : 
 Tuck is he named, a reveller bold, 
 To follow him is ay thy fate. 
 
 ' He hath thee in a golden mesh, 
 And thee will have for evermore. 
 He is a Genius of the Flesh — ' 
 — Yet still, my Tuck, I thee adore. 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 COPSUAM, ESHER. 
 
 Dear Maxse, — I could not answer your letter in time 
 on Thursday, and much as I wished to come to j^ou, could
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 115 
 
 not, seeing that I had to meet the Son at Shoreditch 
 station that evening. He is, I thank the Lord ! well 
 and brisk. Have you decided anent the title of the 
 house ? I could only help you with criticism. No 
 really taking name struck me. I go to Norwich with 
 Arthur in about two weeks, and have multitudinous en- 
 gagements, but will keep myself pledged to you for a 
 week in May. — Now that Emilia 's off my mind, alas ! 
 Poetry presses for speech ! I fear I am, unless I make 
 great effort, chained to this unremunerative business 
 for a month or so. I am getting material for the battle- 
 scenes in ' Emilia in Italy,' But, I have an EngUsh 
 novel, of the real stcry-teUing order, that must roll off 
 soon and precede it.^ Minor tales, too, and also an Auto- 
 biography. Which to be at first, is the point, and while 
 I hesitate comes a ' Wayside piece/ a sonnet, a song — • 
 Ambition says — ' Write this grand Poem,' I smile 
 idiotic and should act with all due imbecOity but for 
 Baker's bills and Boy. — Know me ever, your loving 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 CopsHAM, August 1, 1S63, 
 
 My dear beloved Tuck ! — Poco is off : started on 
 Friday for Havre ; for Bordeaux, for Bayonne, the 
 Pyrenees ; and so round to Dauphine, He has gone ; 
 but the hold of the terril^le fellow is on me still, I am 
 fast bound by my word to meet him at Grenoble, and 
 tread the Dauphine Alps with him, and the ways that 
 he pleases to take me. I cannot resist him. He has a 
 danmable calm way, and I couldn't start till Sons had 
 gone. How I am to do it at all, I camiot imagine : but 
 apparently it must be. The chances of our meetmg on 
 
 ^ lihoda Fleming. The Autobiography, frequently spoken of, was 
 never written.
 
 116 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 the Continent this year are small, and Oh Tuck ! I 
 should have hked it so ! 
 
 Lucas has just written to say that Tom Trollope follows 
 Eleanor's Vic. in 0. a W., so there is no immediate 
 pressure for me, save to hand my proofs to friends. . . . 
 
 I have been to Goodwood with the Fitzgerald Cham- 
 pagne-Loo party : saw much Hfe, which I wanted : 
 backed wrong horses : lost £5. Certain, however, of 
 knowing my lesson. Wise grows the loser, merely happy 
 the winner. A great pastime ! The scene was glorious. 
 We elbowed dukes : jostled lords : were in a flower-garden 
 of countesses. 
 
 Another publisher has requested me to read for him : 
 discern, and select. I never refuse work. Of this more 
 by and by. For the present, IMum — Oh ! How my 
 mouth waters, my heart leaps, at the thought of Tuck 
 planted, as 'twere, in the very eye of the Gods, the rosey 
 crowmg British Cock ! Store a thousand reminiscences 
 for me. I cannot bear to think of leaving England just 
 about the period of your return, and missing Dcmitroia's 
 smiles and rapid recitation of adventures and fun. There 
 is something dreadful about Poco. He is not as other 
 men. He won't beheve in my impossibilities. Tuck ! 
 I am sorry we have admitted him amongst us, I am. It 
 was your doing. Poco persists. He is never satisfied 
 with my answers, if I do not assent. When once I do, 
 or half do, he treats me as a man of honour, and I am 
 fixed. He has sailed, as secure of me, as if he had me at 
 Grenoble already. I shall send the S. R. to Chamounix 
 a day after this letter. Sons are in good case. I hope 
 your darlings are well : but of them j-ou are at least well 
 informed. If you had not thought proper to cut off 
 communication between the great mother and me, I 
 might have told you particulars of them. 
 
 WeU ! — Parliament 's up ! I think ]\Iorley will do my
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 117 
 
 Ips. J. You see the • Times ' of course. I spare you paper 
 news. Old Copsham is pretty sound, the Beetle soars. 
 
 The Beetle soars, the Beetle spins, 
 The Beetle is up in the air, Tuck ; 
 'Twill crack Robin's crown 
 As a stamp for his sins, 
 Or make him defy old care. 
 
 Pray, write and say, how (the route) and when (the week) 
 you return. Poco says I must start on the 22nd. 
 
 I suppose you have not come across Jessopp ? He 
 has promised to journey here, and I hope will take back 
 Sons with him. My poor darling begins to see dimly again 
 that holidays have a termination. ' If I had not such 
 a kind master ! ' he remarks. ' I am very happy dov/n 
 there. Papa, you know ! ' You see. Tuck, he has his 
 choice of different kinds of happiness. Blessed is he 
 who can even look on such alternatives for a little human 
 soul. I am twice blest, for that my friend is happy as 
 well as my Son. 
 
 Tuck, I am going to bed. If I dream, sail thou across 
 the vision, like a jolly monkish owl. 
 
 My jolly Friar, now lift thy cowl 
 And send me a laugh like a revelling owl. 
 
 Were I lying and groaning in pits of fire, 
 
 Thy laughter like water would fall, my Friar ! 
 
 Good-night, Tuck. Good-night, dear Demitroia. 
 Good-night to the two young ladies ! I say ! Have they 
 been much admired ? 'Cause, we won't have our English 
 wild roses stared at by ' mannikin ' foreigners. Tuck, 
 have you been a zealous guardian of those treasures ? 
 Alas ! Who would have done that dutv hke me ? There 
 is a soncj; called * Poor Robin.' Sin^i it. Poco started 
 
 ^^ -"-"^^ ■•.^-^'- -.«v^^v**^. '-'"-O
 
 118 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 under a big full moon. I crj'- for a blessing upon you all, 
 and sleep. 
 
 Augtist, 1, 1863. 
 
 My dear Friends, — I rc-open to tell you what might 
 have been the saddest tale I should ever have to tell. 
 
 Yesterday, W found Arthur out alone ; put him 
 
 on his horse, after shortening the stirrups, and suddenly 
 let go the reins, for some purpose unloiown ; mj^ little 
 darling was carried off, fell, dangled to the stirrup and 
 was dragged headlong over the furze. Not killed ! 
 Mercifully spared and no bones broken : but the shaking 
 has been tremendous. He lies upstairs, and was miser- 
 able till this morning. Had he been kicked, or dragged 
 on a road, I should have had a shattered heap of all I loved 
 given to my arms. He was saved by a short length, and 
 by his boot being pulled off. (He had elastic sides to 
 them.) Izod says he is doing well. He can't keep 
 anything on his stomach, and complains of his head : 
 but he sleeps soundly and calmly : breathes peacefully. 
 My poor lamb ! — ' Oh ! is it a dream ? ' he said, as I 
 undressed him after the accident. He can now recount 
 all that happened till he was dragged. I think I may 
 hope that he will recover, and be as sound as he was. 
 
 Of poor W it is useless to speak. He is sorry, of 
 
 course. — Don't be distressed, for you know I should not 
 be quiet at heart if all did not look very hopeful. I have 
 had a rude blow. I ^vill write to j^ou in 3 days. God 
 bless you. George Meredith. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 CopsHAM, EsHER, August 5, 1863. 
 
 My dear Tuck, — Sons are on their legs again ! The 
 poor little fellow is very weak and somewhat shaky ; 
 covered with bruises : but vitally sound, bones alright.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 119 
 
 Head uninjured, as far as human eye can reckon. This 
 day he was allowed to get up. Yesterday he swallowed 
 food without immediately rejecting it. He is not much 
 the worse for his terrible mishap ; quite cheerfully he 
 shghtly damns himself for mounting such a big horse, but 
 
 excuses W . Poor W has been in a great way. 
 
 It is no comfort to me to make another miserable, when 
 I am struck ; and it is of no use to examine a catastrophe 
 which I am sure he wiU not help to repeat. 
 
 Well, Tuck, my darhng is returned to me out of the 
 
 jaws of death. W says he is thankful I was spared 
 
 the sight which will haunt him till he dies. He feared 
 to look at Arthur, making sure that he was killed. Had 
 it been on the road, or had the Uttle fellow's boot not been 
 of elastic sides, the worst must have happened. The 
 boot wrenched off is somewhere on the common now, 
 no one knows where. The distance Arthur was dragged 
 was about 50 yards, as far as I can make out. There, 
 Tuck ! We have put up our Thank-song to the Supreme. 
 
 With this I forward the ' Saturday.' How little poor 
 Ethel knows the danger her ' brother ' has nm. Break 
 it to her quietly. Write a jolly long letter, if you can 
 manage, saying whether you return before the 21st August. 
 And by what route, when you do return. If things go 
 well with Sons, I join Poco in Grenoble on the 24th, 
 leaving England the 22nd. I should Hke to see you first. 
 
 Jessopp is en route homeward. He wrote from Aachen, 
 and will probably be at Copsham on Saturday, if the 
 news concerning Arthur does not bring him before. Say 
 sweet things to Demitroia, or let as many pass your 
 douane as you consider for her good, and your o^v^l. 
 Hoping the young ladies are not getting troublesome. — 
 Your loving George Meredith.
 
 120 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 August 11, 1863. 
 
 My dear Tuck, — This letter is a chance shot sent at 
 you : for I doubt you will have left Chamounix before 
 it arrives. My darlmg boy is going on alright. His head, 
 though bruised and blue behind the ear, is sound, and his 
 little innocent rump, which occasionally twitches him, is 
 on the whole as well capable of taking what his conduct 
 may earn him as yours, Tuck, or mine. The recovery 
 is wonderful. I thought while I was at his side that 
 first night of the accident that has befallen you and 
 marked you for going through the performance for your 
 Robin's comfort in future years. His boot (elastic sides 
 saved him) still travels at a swift pace over the common, 
 and will be re-discovered by a succeeding generation. 
 Jessopp and his wife come on Friday. Arthur returns 
 to them this day week. On the Thursday following I am 
 off to join awful Poco ; who has written to fix me irre- 
 vocably. He was at Bordeaux, at claret hard as he 
 could. Impassively. Can you not see him ? Full of 
 this wine he was starting for the P^^renean baths. Pretty 
 well for a youngster ! I cannot yet make you understand, 
 that among the sons of the Great Mother, we count our 
 time from the hour we first saw Tuck. He says : ' Tell 
 Tuck he is to come home by Grenoble ' : be there (Hotel 
 de TEurope) on the 24tli, ' which is Robin's day of appoint- 
 ment.' Lord ! How I wish you could do it ! Eh ? 
 Tuck ? I would go on upon this theme, but I have the 
 ridiculous idea that I shall be bawling persuasion at 
 Chamounix while you are a day distant across the Alps. 
 My letter will catch you or be 24 hours too late. Still 
 if you get this, think seriously of the possibility of your 
 coming home by Grenoble, for I want to see you, mightily. 
 I now desire to join Poco, for I feel as if I had been dragged
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 121 
 
 by a horse, and were blue behind the ear, with stem- 
 quarters creaking rather, I want restoration. Tuck 
 being absent, I go to Nature, in her sublimest. Greet 
 Demitroia and her chickens, from your loving 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To William Hardmmi. 
 
 Piccadilly, August 20, 1863, 
 Dear Tuck, — I am coming to you. Shall be at Hotel 
 Choiseui on Friday or Saturday. For Heaven's sake, 
 be there. Make that we meet. I bring article in 0. a W, 
 America, etc., and Vie de Jesus by Renan, one of the 
 finest works of this generation. — Yours in all love (with 
 \ to Demitroia), George Meredith. 
 
 I start to-night, Newhaven and Dieppe, 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 Sept. 16, 1863, 
 Tuck ! — I am of return. I come to arrive on Sunday, 
 and amid such a press of work. I try to recover my 
 native tongue. I must tell you of our travels by and by. 
 Suffice, that Poco was at the station. (It is one of his 
 vanities to be coolly punctual. He meets you as though 
 he said * You see, I promised to be sighting the North 
 Pole at 9 A.M. on the 27th August 1891 '). He was there. 
 We went to the Grande Chartreuse, filling all the vallc3^s 
 on approach with the joint names of Tuck and Demitroia. 
 We slept there. We walked away with 9 bottles of 
 Liqueur, and toiled over mountain passes. Through 
 Dauphine we walked. We walked ourselves into — 
 silence. Our ordinary course was 10 hours per diem : 
 sometimes it went to 13. We crossed Mont Genevre into 
 Italy : to Turin : to Lago Maggiore, then over Pied- 
 montese mountains and lovely valleys into Switzerland 
 to Geneva : thence to Dijon, where Poco, reaching me
 
 122 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 the hand of friendship and shutting up the tongue of 
 seduction, but parting in fact very prettily, set out for 
 Li^ge : I for Paris, remaining there four days of dehght, 
 save for the absence of one. — Strange chapter of the Book 
 of Sandars have we to narrate : a few Kttle adventures : 
 pecuharities of Poco (he has a right proper feeling towards 
 Demitroia ; and the germs of reverence for Tuck), etc. 
 We went too fast. We trudged like packmen. Still I 
 have much enjoyed the trip : am better, fresher. The 
 weather was so-so : neither very bad, nor Tuck-like. 
 To Ethel my love, and to Nellie. To D.T. much warmth 
 of affection. I heard at Geneva that the blessed httle 
 man goes on all well. — Your loving George Meredith. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 CopsHAM, Oct. 21, 1863. 
 
 Dear and sweet Tuck ! — ^Your aid I rejoice in : your 
 suggestions I for the most part follow, bowing the head 
 of acquiescence to almost all your emendations. I 
 beheve you too, when you say you hke the work, and the 
 thought comforts me. The night of the day you read 
 this, we dine at Poco's papa's table. You don't mention 
 having heard from Chapman 1 I suppose they delay 
 that they may consult me as to sum. I must see you 
 before I speak as to my own SUM. Do you think that, 
 as novels go now, I may fix something huge ? or content 
 me with a medium, and, snuffling a low content, say 
 Such is the world ? Or, if I can't get my price, take all 
 the risk ? You say that ' stress ' is arbitrary — wrong. 
 ' Her flanks ' seem to strike one on the temple out of the 
 printer's page. On the whole nothing could be neater 
 than your criticism. Maxse is amusing. Objects to 
 her conduct in going with Gambia ' because every girl 
 is conscious that she should never trust herself alone
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 123 
 
 with a man,' etc. So : the sentimental worshipper will 
 always make them animals. God bless you, Tuck. — Your 
 loving Robin. 
 
 To Miss Katherine Vulliamy. 
 
 EsHER, Surrey, Oct. 28, 1863. 
 
 Dear Miss Vulliamy, — Thursday is unhappily my 
 one day in the week when I am in harness and have to 
 do Press-duty in London. On Monday, too, my engage- 
 ment to go on a yachting expedition to the Channel 
 Islands, holds me bound, I fear. But if this can be put 
 off, I shaU come to you gladly. I would much rather 
 be in Mickleham. If the fates drag me away notwith- 
 standing, I may hope to be permitted to call on you 
 when I return ? And, since it pains you that I should 
 take ' long walks ' to no purpose, I will also take the 
 liberty of consulting you, d'avance ; though, let nio 
 assure you again, the length of my journey is not to be 
 deplored. As to my walking back at night : I am an 
 associate with owls and nightjars, tramps and tinlcers, 
 who teach me nature and talk human nature to me. 
 If I stay in Mickleham, do I not lose those privileges of 
 a neighbour, who bows himself out to his own bed, and 
 is therefore welcomed without formality ? But, during 
 my first visit I should be ungracious not to accept 
 ]\Ir. VuUiamy's invitation in all its particulars. I beg that 
 you wiU thank him in my name. 
 
 On consideration, I thought that ' The Ordeal ' could 
 not do you harm : I can only trust that it wOl not offend. 
 It deals with certain problems of life, and is therefore 
 not of a milky quality. I am afraid that it requires stout 
 reading. If you weather it, unshocked, you will find 
 my other works less trying. — I am, dear Miss Vulliamy, 
 most faithfully yours, George Meredith.
 
 124 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 To Arthur 0. Meredith. 
 
 Autumn 1863. 
 
 My own dear little Man ! — We went on the water 
 yesterday and fished ; and I caught nothing ; but 
 Mr. Johnson hooked an enormous Jack of a quarter of a 
 pound weight, which makes him very proud. I should 
 Hke to have my darling boy with me. But you shall 
 come here some day. There are beautiful meadows by 
 the brink of the stream, on one side, and on the other, 
 tall thick woods hanging close over the water. The 
 Thames is very different from the river Inn or the Adige, 
 or the Passeyr. It is quite smooth, and broad, and still ; 
 green with reflection of the trees and herbage, a capital 
 place for j^ou to bathe in. — Remember me to Tom, with 
 whom I have no doubt you are getting on well. If you 
 want anything, write me word of it. But I should like 
 to hear from you, in any case, so sit down the day that 
 you receive this, and write me a few hues, that I may 
 hear from my dear little man the best news that can come 
 to me — that he is quite weU and quite happy. — ^Your 
 lovmgPapa, George Meredith. 
 
 To the Rev. Augustus Jessopp. 
 
 EsHER, Autumn 1863. 
 
 My dear Jessopp, — You say that you are anxious 
 about my Uttle man. You take the wind out of aU my 
 sails. Pardon me, but I shall have no peace till I hear 
 whether I have dwelt on the word too strongly. If you 
 are onlv anxious as to his mental briskness, I am not 
 alarmed ; and I know also that he * potters ' and plays 
 after his own fashion and is not a boisterous fellow. But 
 I am always open to fear for his physical health. His 
 circulation is not rapid, his stomach is weak. He requires
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 125 
 
 to be watched. And the medicines of the old system do 
 not suit him. Even for a trifling ilhiess, I wish him to 
 have the attendance of a homoeopathic physician. — I 
 should imagine that, if you see languor, it arises from 
 indigestion — constitutional weakness of digestion. I 
 should like him to have a course of cod-hver oil. If 
 Mrs. Jessopp thinks good, I will send him some down 
 from Savory & Moore's. And as a drink at dinner, some 
 light claret mixed with Brighton Seltzer Water, might 
 inspirit him. Would you allow of this ? Any other 
 wine, or beer, he must not take. I don't want to give 
 trouble, but my heart broods over him, and I am un- 
 manned at a breath of doubt concerning him. — I told 
 you that his powers of acquisition would not be marked. 
 But you will find bj^ and by that he has sucked in much 
 and made use of it in his own way. He will never be a 
 gladiator : but he may be a thinker : I expect him to 
 be a man of sense. If only — and here my sails flap 
 the mast miserably. I would come down at once but 
 my fresh work detains me. I have my hands fuU. 
 Mrs. Jessopp will be moved to give me the state of the 
 case. Will you tell her that a hamper will come for 
 Arthur this week, containing among things more precious 
 to him, the necessaries she wrote for. I had much to 
 discourse on to you. 
 
 This, doubtless very sill3% perturbation of the parental 
 mind, chases the gabble from my tongue. God bless 
 you. I have perhaps scarcely recovered from the shock 
 of the accident during i^rthur's holidays. The tone of 
 a word relating to him makes me melancholy. For my- 
 self it takes much to make me hang out that j'ellow flag 
 for an hour even. — ^Your loving George Meredith.
 
 126 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 EsHER, Surrey, Nov. 3, 1863. 
 
 My dear Tuck, — I am under extraordinary press of 
 work and must also rewrite 2 ' frolic ' chapters : but I 
 believe I shall see you on Thursday at least, even if you 
 go into the heart of the gale, instead of dancing diabolus 
 on vexed waters : for time enough to squeeze your hand. 
 If the wind rages I shall y^i the more wish myself by your 
 side. I am whelmed with MSS. ; full of envy of you free 
 men, dejected as regards this novel, full of confidence for 
 the future. — Ever your loving George M. 
 
 To Arthur 0. Meredith. 
 
 CopsHAM Cottage, 
 EsHER, Nov. 12, 1863. 
 
 My dear little Man ! — Island Pond is frozen over, 
 and all the common looks as you saw it that Christmas 
 morning when we walked over to Oatlands. Sandars is 
 seen sometimes, with brown gaiters and a green tunic. 
 His legs continue to grow, but his body does not. AU 
 your playthings, your theatre, books, etc., are put away, 
 but you can get at them easily when you return. You 
 can imagine how glad I shall be to hear jowv voice again 
 in this neighbourhood ; and if I were not working very 
 hard, I should find the place too dull to live in, without 
 you. Shall I hear at Christmas, that you have been 
 learning, and have got a little more friendly with your 
 Latin Grammar ? Mind you don't waste your time. If 
 you do your best, I shall bo satisfied. Tell me the names 
 of the boys you play with most, and what fellows you 
 think are the best. I suppose you see Mr. Sandys. Have 
 you been to Mrs. Clabburns ? Let me be sure that I shall 
 have a letter from you every week. AVhen you have 
 written to Captain Maxso, you must write to Mrs. Edward
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 127 
 
 Chapman, * Camden Park, Tunbridge Wells/ The name 
 of her house is ' Hollyshaw.' God bless my dear little 
 man, prays his loving Papa, George Meredith. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 London, Nov. 13, 1863. 
 
 Dearest Tuck, my bonny wild duck ; whom I might 
 have addressed to * off Flushing,' but for the fact that 
 in 17 hours and | you come homeward rushing (turning a 
 tail of marvellous breadth, I believe it still darkens the 
 Dutchmen). I have written to Maxse and now let me 
 ax ye, if Chapman & Hall are such men ; with wonderful 
 powers must your Robin possessed be, able to run with 
 them fairly. 'Tis Frederick's fault, that no answer you 
 had had ; as letters he writes but rarely. Old Edward 
 tells me this, and remarks, you shall quickly a cheque 
 get, commensurate. As for the conduct of the ' Firm ' 
 he admits with a shrug that I properly censure it. The 
 thing would be settled at once, but Fred is taking a httle 
 holiday (the sixth in 6 weeks) — Adieu. 
 
 When we meet next time will be my jolly day. 
 
 Signed : RoBm. 
 
 To Mrs. Janet Ross, 
 
 EsHER, Dec. 1, 1863. 
 
 My dearest Janet, — I have put back my letter, think- 
 ing I might get some book to offer you. You know that 
 I recommended you for Renan's Vie de Jesus. Chapman 
 has the offer of it, and would have done it, with your 
 name mixed up with it. But our worthy and most dis- 
 creet Bart declined to have your name mixed up with it. 
 As things go, perhaps he was right. So the book went 
 to Triibner, — ^You remember Adams, whom your mother 
 sent to the altar first and subsequently to me ? He is 
 now flourishing, if the being able to buy a business comes
 
 128 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 under that term. He consulted me after taking that 
 step, or I think he would not have purchased Saunders 
 and Otley's. But so it is. He is now Saunders & 0. 
 At his earnest request I advise him. Of course this is 
 a secret. The position will put books for translation 
 in my way, now and then. I had one the other day, but 
 the translator's name was requisite. ' Une bouchee de 
 pain.' Mrs. Gaily does it. Murray called at Jeff's to 
 get the cop3^right two daj^s after Adams had secured it. 
 
 Now of mj^self a little. Can I ever forget my dearest 
 and best woman-friend ? And I must be cold of heart 
 not to be touched by your faithfulness to your friendships. 
 I, who let grief eat into me and never speak of it (partly 
 because I despise the sympathy of fools and will not 
 trouble my friends), am thereby rendered rather weak of 
 expression at times. The battle is tough when one fights 
 it all alone. And it is only at times that I awake from 
 hving in a darker world. But I am getting better, both 
 in health and spirit. It is my punishment that I have 
 to tell you what I never prove, that I love you and shall 
 do so constantly. For I hold nothing dearer than your 
 esteem, my dear ! Writing letters seems a poor way of 
 showing it, and yet even that I don't do ! But you never 
 vary. If you were like me, our lights would soon pass 
 out of sight of one another, leaving me many regrets, 
 certainly, but I acknowledge you to be the fixed star of 
 this union, as you will be one of mine forever. So, 
 pardon this sentimentalism. As I said, it 's my punish- 
 ment to have to put my case in such a tone. — I fancy, 
 too, that your instinct believes me true to the memory of 
 our old kindness, careless of it though I appear ? 
 
 The noble Bart gave me capital accounts of you and 
 my lost Lady. The accident occurred to Arthur while 
 she was at Poole. When he went to Norwich, I started 
 at once for Italy to get fresh scenery and extraneous
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 129 
 
 excitement. I hoped to see her on my return : but I heard 
 that she was not alone, and in the end as I was making 
 up my mind to write for an audience, the news came that 
 she had just reached Calais. I smote my undecided head. 
 I am vexed beyond measure at having missed her. The 
 news of her is so good that it tastes like fresh hfe to me. 
 On this head, please give me particulars. And if she could 
 be persuaded to write, how glad I should be ! 
 
 I am here at Copsham still. Next year I shall have 
 the place to myself, to buy or lease. I hope to be able 
 to buy it, and then it may be made agreeable for friends. 
 At present none but men can come. Some are usually 
 here from Saturday to Monday. Of the Esherians I see 
 next to nothing. — By the way, Izod behaved very nicely 
 in his attendance on Arthur — just as you said would be 
 the case. He was cheerful from the first. You can 
 conceive my condition. From six in the evening to half- 
 past four in the morning my darling was insensible, only 
 saying, once : ' Oh ! is it a dream ! ' and staring wildly. 
 He had on elastic boots, and this fact saved him. If the 
 boot had not come off, he would have been dragged till — I 
 have looked over into the pit. I don't think I misbehaved 
 
 myself and I certainly did not reproach poor W , of 
 
 whose folly we need not speak, seeing that he won't renew 
 it. There is every reason to feel sure that Arthur has 
 taken no damage whatever, nor, I think, is his pluck at 
 all lessened. 
 
 Your Holbeins ! I went to get them done, and was 
 told that the Kensington Museum had been remonstrated 
 with by photographers generally, and had abandoned 
 the work. I tried to get Dante Rossetti to give me his. 
 I have thought of numerous things to supplant them, 
 but jewels scorn the only resource, though I can't bear to 
 see them either on arm, neck, or fingers. You will receive 
 something or other (overlooking my bad taste) with my 
 
 VOL, I. — I
 
 130 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 novel in January. It is called * Emilia in England ' 
 antiposed to ' Emilia in Italy/ which is to foUow — both 
 in 3 vols. The first is a contrast between a girl of sim- 
 plicity and passion and our Enghsh sentimental, sociaUy- 
 aspiring damsels. The second (in Italy) is vivid narrative 
 (or should be). I hope you will like it : — I can't guess 
 whether you wiU. You saw, I suppose, that the Saturday 
 Review has gently whipped me for * Modern Love.' I 
 am not the worse. And doubtless the writer meant well. 
 I regret to say that I can't give up writing poetry, which 
 keeps your poet poor. 
 
 You were charmed with Kinglake's book ? In style it 
 beats anjrthing going, but m judgment it is bad, and it 
 cannot take place as a piece of artistic history. Here is 
 Maxse writing hard against it, he being a reverent admirer 
 of Lord Raglan and a just man. Kinglake's treatment of 
 the French is simply mean. — ^And mean too is the position 
 England assumes as critic everywhere — as actor nowhere, 
 if it can be helped. We are certainly in a mess about this 
 Congress, and the French aUiance is a matter of the past. 
 
 I read the 'Times ' Alexandrian correspondent diligently 
 to catch the friend's hand behind the official pen.^ 
 
 How good of you to look forward to my little man's 
 future ! Who knows ? He might be found fit to be a 
 merchant, and what offer could be better than yours ? 
 But I must first get at his inclinations and try his strength. 
 
 Now, my dearest good Janet, adieu for a space — tiU 
 I repeat it. Write to me. Give my warm regards to 
 your husband, and know me ever, your loving 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 Arthur comes home on the 23rd. He will write to 
 you before the month closes. 
 
 ^ Mrs. RosB was now acting as a correspondent of the Times in 
 Egypt.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 131 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 Dec. 1, 1863. 
 
 Dearest lovely Tctck, — I dine with Maxse at the 
 ' Garrick ' to-morrow, and as I want to converse with 
 you on the matter of your objections to points in ' Emiha/ 
 I should hke to know whether you can give me a bed, 
 'cause if you can you will : which is established in my 
 mind, but if you can will you send a line to Chapman & 
 Hall's, or better to Maxse, at the ' Garrick,' containing 
 the wished word for me. Yes, say to Maxse at the 
 Garrick (with my initials in the corner of the address), 
 and then I '11 come to talk and fight him : but with full 
 acknowledgement of the soundness of some of his criticism 
 and value of his advice. I am glad that Tuck hkes it 
 on the whole. It 's impossible to tell him what difficulty 
 I get myself into by altering my original conception of 
 the scheme. — Your own Robin. 
 
 To Mrs. Jessopp. 
 
 ESHER, Dec. 1863. 
 
 My dear Mrs. Jessopp, — The Son blooms in the air 
 of home. How could I have stopped away from my 
 living heart so long ? But I have him and won't moan 
 that it 's only for six weeks. More than ever do I thank 
 the blessed chance that inspired you to make yourselves 
 known to me and render me the most deeply indebted 
 of men. For, I see not only that every care is taken of 
 my darling under your roof, but that happiness is his 
 vital air there. He breathes it. Shall he not be robust 
 in spirit ? At least I have faith in the experiment. 
 
 Now, I have an engagement to go to my friend Maxse 
 with Arthur next month — a visit long dela3-ed by me 
 and not to be put off. But, you must come to me this 
 time . . . will you not ? I should be grieved to miss
 
 132 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 you ! I wish to know wlieu you are to be in London 
 . . . the date ! And I will conform to it. Please reply ; 
 so that I may write to mj'' now impatient sea-captain, 
 who will not believe that I mean to be with him at all. 
 And tell me of Gordon, and of vour Christmas, 
 
 Thackeray's death startled and grieved me. And I, 
 who think I should be capable of eyeing the pitch-black 
 King if he knocked for me in the night ! — Alas for those 
 who do not throw the beetle ! — Of Emiha I cannot speak. 
 She grieves me. I have never so cut about a created 
 thing. There 's good work in her : but the work ? 
 That note of interrogation is in person. — ^Your faithful 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To the. Rev. Augustus Jessopp. 
 
 EsHER, Jan. 1864. 
 
 My dear Jessopp, — Shall j-ou be in To-\vn and visible 
 to me, on Wednesday, on Thursday, on Friday week ? 
 
 Do, write and tell me you are well : for, all my friends 
 are croaking ; fog is about : blue mould sits on the fair 
 aspect of Companionship, and I want to know that some- 
 body 's all right. My son is all right. I am not all 
 right. Emilia Belloni is not all right. She has worried 
 me beyond measure, and couldn't expect to be all right. 
 She will be, when she 's in Itah'. As to character, I 
 think you will have no doubt of her flesh and blood. 
 How you will like the soul of the damsel, I can't guess. 
 Out in February. 
 
 Are you rejoicing at an Heir to England's Thi'one ? 
 Have you not admired the loyal leaders of Jeames de la 
 Pluche in the ' Times ' ? — My Prms ! It is of course matter 
 for quiet hearty congratulation, but I confess that this 
 excited flunkeyism of our Press makes one even look at 
 the other extreme and sec a manliness in the American.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 133 
 
 Your words on Norwich School Prize-Day appeared in 
 I. J.i 
 
 Arthur sends his love to Mrs. Jessopp, and I ask you, 
 what privileges are these of his years that enable him 
 to send that pretty wheedling word, while I have to con- 
 tent myself with ' regards ' ! I am almost tempted to 
 say with exclamatory, dramatic, cockney bards, ' for- 
 sooth," after it. And I mean so much more, don't you 
 see ! But there are things one endures with one's accep- 
 tance into practical life — collars likewise. When collars 
 and tail-coats are aboHshed, — well ! I shouldn't hke 
 to be photographed then. However, till I wear that 
 broad grin, I am your loving George M. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 CoPSHAM, Jan. 12, 1864. 
 
 My bones, dear Tuck, are more eloquent to me of 
 the ball on Friday night than I shall be to you. Old 
 Parsimony must be right. ' You changed thick breeches 
 for thin, thick socks and boots for thin capering patents, 
 and out in that ther' frost, and then wonders you feels 
 
 akins in your bones and calls it indigestion and I 's 
 
 wine . . .' Yesterday I walked to Mickleham with 
 Sons, taking him on my back returning, and then 2 miles 
 in a fly, so that he wasn't tired. It didn't cure me. 
 I shiver and feel like an ancient frame. The Ball ? I 
 try to remove the mists of jaundice, but I cannot get a 
 view of it without some yellow. It was frightful to me. 
 The young women (saving the Clarke girls) were hideous, 
 the old ones talked of the weather and shivered, as I do 
 now at the recollection of my suffering. 
 
 My dear Tuck, if you want a sight of the room, open 
 your piano hd ; strike on the notc^s and see the little 
 
 ^ Ipswich Journal.
 
 134 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 bobbing heads in the interior. They bob to some pur- 
 pose, but oh ! this sight ! Esher's young men were hardly 
 better than its females — I use the word in all its offensive- 
 ness. At 12 midnight supper. Champagne Cup (small 
 beer, sweetened, with a fizz) to wash down incarnate 
 dyspepsia in a room | frost | fire. All partook of Cham- 
 pagne-cup. I have the satisfaction of knowing that I 
 pressed it upon 2 ; filling my own glass at the same time, 
 and speeding it down the table with admirable dexterity. 
 I left at 2 A.M. I am told that some young men, called 
 
 upon by I to cheer the ladies, the hostesses of the 
 
 evening, did so until they were drunk. I pardon their 
 
 frail stomachs. W , after a bottle of Moselle, gave 
 
 a sniff and lit a cigar, and refused to go. But that 
 Robin always keeps his appointments, he would have 
 followed the captain's example. I walked to Esher and 
 walked home, and precious co-wo-wo-wold it was. Tuck. 
 Yes, a short article on Wn. Australia would help me. I 
 do not think I can come to j^ou on Thursday. On Friday 
 to Maxse. 
 
 My Jeames's expressions of joy in the ' Times ' on the 
 Royal Baby have been magnificent, and should procure 
 for the family la Pluche, a patent of nobility. Love to 
 that changeful creature Domitroia. I send you proofs 
 of ' Emilia.' Forward them to Johnson, Bullion Office, 
 Bank. — ^Your loving Robin. 
 
 To Captain Maxse. ^ ,_-. 
 
 ^ Esher, 1864. 
 
 My dear Maxse, — I had thought of ' Hamble Ridge,' 
 and also of ' Hamble Mount,' which latter, though more 
 common, is perhaps preferable. Either one would do 
 very weU. Is there any characteristic of the river to give 
 it christening ? as a reach, a bluff — ' Hamble Reach ' 
 would not sound iU. We should sit together and give it
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 135 
 
 a title over a cup of claret. Any trees to distinguish it ? 
 — ' Hamble Willows,' ' Hamble Elms,' etc.— The site 
 of the House impresses me favourably. I must have for 
 my daily meal a good plateful of sky ; and the sun must 
 drop into it, or I 'm not satisfied. I feed on him and 
 the field he traverses. This, apparently, you will get. — 
 How is health with you ? I progress excellentl5^ but 
 only to get into a higher circle of desires and hopes, 
 despairs and dreams. And if a fair face touches me, 
 what is there for me but to moan at my loss of philo- 
 sophy ? Can I go to her and say, ' Love me ' ? She 
 sucks my comfort from my life, and that 's all. Or, not 
 all ! It 's experience ! — for this were we born. My 
 philosophy distils again to just that bitter drop. — 
 ' Emilia ' in a fortnight positively. Poor little woman ! 
 What will the British P. say to a Pinis that holds aloft 
 no nuptial torch ? All she does, at the conclusion, is 
 to leave England. Perhaps you, too, wiU be disappointed. 
 I trust not. 
 
 Say to Mrs. Maxse that I shall be very anxious to be, 
 if not the first, one of the first of her guests at Hamble 
 the, as yet, unnamed. And we will go and hear the 
 nightingales, as you and I did, my dear fellow, when 
 they chuckled a love-snatch and your heart had not 
 found a home. Note ' Frost on the May -night ' close 
 at the end of ' Emilia.' — ^You wiU receive your copy the 
 day she appears. Shall you haply review the production ? 
 It 's my undertaking — the risk mine and the uncounted 
 profits. I told Chapman I should want a good sum, and 
 did not object to publish the book myself. He thought 
 the closing alternative best, and it may be for me. —What 
 are you reading ? What meditating ? The Fates are 
 stirring with a mighty spoon at this hour. — May Heaven 
 bless you and yours through it all and soon give me sight 
 of you ! — Your loving Geohge M.
 
 136 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 Jan. 21, 1864. 
 
 Sweet Tuck, — ^I bring Sons to go to Rossetti to have 
 his face taken. If I can I will get away and sleep at 
 Gordon Square. Haply he mayn't be at home, I shall 
 not be later than | past ten. — Your lovmg and grateful 
 
 Robin. 
 
 Love to the fickle one. 
 
 To the Rev. Augustus Jessopp. 
 
 ESHER. 
 
 My dear Jessopp, — As to the book ! One of Chapman 
 & Hall's men put a paper on it, \vith your name, and 
 returned it. He has written to Mudie to that effect ; but 
 stupidly delayed doing so. The matter must be set right 
 in a few days, and I am sorry exceedingly that your 
 kindness should have given you such bother. — I met 
 Clabbum and Sandys the other night at Arthur Lewis's. 
 Sandys has some fine conceptions for pictures. Alto- 
 gether, he is one of the most remarkable of the ' brushes ' 
 of our day, with the quaintest stolid Briton way of looking 
 at general things. But artists see their square of canvas 
 and little more — add the gilt frame. Sandys has a 
 romantic turn that lets me feed on him. — What you say 
 of Arthur requiring to make blood to be lively in body 
 and mind, is my view and shows me that we strike one 
 note. Let men make good blood, I constantly cry. 
 I hold that to be rightly materialist — to understand and 
 take nature as she is — is to get on the true divine highroad. 
 That we should attain to a healthy humanity, is surely 
 the most pleasing thing in God's sight. Now, of another 
 matter. The book is to be pubhshcd at my risk and for 
 my profit. It wiU be out in a fortnight. In a month 
 from that date I can draw something. Meantime, if any 
 pressure should bo perchance on you, you, my friend,

 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 137 
 
 will let me know, and I will get what is wanted and for- 
 ward it. Nothing but my carelessness puts me behind 
 in my money accounts. I make, apart from novels, 
 enough for Arthur and myself. It comes and goes. If 
 this novel does not pay well, I shall retrench rigidly, book 
 my bills, deny friends, have no purse, and look above the 
 head of the crossing-sweeper. I know that you under- 
 stand how the delay has been superinduced. It will 
 hardly occur again. I have trusted to your good heart 
 in full faith, as doubtless you feel. That I should at all 
 inconvenience you is not necessary'-, and you will always 
 speak openly on that head — as I am now acting — ^will 
 you not ? The novel has good points, and some of my 
 worst ones. It has no plot albeit a current series of 
 events : but being based on character and continuous 
 development, it is not unlikely to miss a strildng success. 
 But, hail to the Beetle ! verily I have made new blood 
 by its aid, of the pure crimson, from which great Poesies 
 and stem conception should flow ! I am growing fuller 
 of hope and thirst for work. I begin to believe again that 
 I may do ' something.' Judge me not by this present per- 
 formance ! — I think I may say that I vnW be with you. 
 Heaven consenting, the middle of this month. Is Arthur 
 correct when he talks of holidays commencing the 23rd 
 of March ? — We shall have much to tallr over ; and, by 
 the way, Alys has not arrived, man whose energy did 
 win the admiration of Sandys and myself jointly ! I 
 want to see it ; I want to see you. Give Mrs. Jessopp 
 my warmest greeting. My heart is with her who watches 
 over my boy. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 EsHER, Feb. 24, 1SG4. 
 
 My dear Tuck, — I have been away from the Cot. I 
 am direly disturbed at my enforced absence from you
 
 138 LETTERS OF GEORGE ]\IEREBITH 
 
 and Demitroia and — the G. M. ! Take G. M. from the 
 G. M. what remains ? Nothing. I feel as nothing. 
 There is an extraordinary fataUty about Bullion. He 
 crosses our star, Tuck. Not satisfied with robbing you of 
 me, he must now take Morison. 
 
 What a Thursday evening I shall pass in strong hght of 
 Fancy's contrast. . . . All pleasure attend j^ou ! Success 
 wait on you ! Smooth flow the Sauces ! May the fillets 
 tender be ! Nor aught to ruffle the Olympian brows of 
 Tuck, the Host. — Being the prayer of his loving 
 
 RoBEsr. 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 March \, 1864. 
 
 My dearest Tuck, — Your invitation is a mockery. 
 You have combined with Circumstance to keep me from 
 a sight of the Great M, On Wednesday to Morison to 
 the ' Wandering Minstrels ' at Lord Edward Fitzgerald's 
 after dining with Arthur Lewis : on Friday to a dinner 
 here : on Saturday Copsham reception. Sunday, guests. 
 Monday, Mickleham : and so on. Damn you. Tuck ! 
 What do you mean by it ? And, Oh Lord ! I must re- 
 trench, for I am going to publish on my own account. 
 I give no more to crossing-sweepers, and drink small beer, 
 if Emilia fail to hit her mark. Give my respectful com- 
 pliments to your Mama, and I hope your tum-tum is 
 stronger, old Boy ? I still improve. Since I can't see 
 you, write like a dear fellow, and tell me of yourself, 
 Demitroia and the chicks. — Arthur flourishes. — ^Your 
 loving G. M. 
 
 To Mrs. Jessopp. 
 
 March 1864, 
 
 My dear Mrs. Jessopp, — May I beg you to give my 
 little man, on my behalf, five shillings ? He writes for 
 half-a-crown, but we double it.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 139 
 
 I have been disturbed of late at not hearing from him. 
 He now says, that he has written. The letter did not 
 arrive. Would it be as well to question him on the point, 
 and make inquiries of the housekeeper ? 
 
 I am so busy and bothered with work (consequently 
 doing it ill and wrathful and utterly un- 
 worthy to hold pen to you) that I break ofiE without a 
 reply to your remembered last letter. Though, with 
 regard to the Sunday arrangements at the School. Now, 
 let me assure you, fair advocate, that I think you make 
 wonderful improvements on a state of things rather hurt- 
 ful to Nature in her untamed years. Hurtful to her, and 
 therefore she has her revenge : a not unhoty thing when 
 we see it to be simply the action of violated laws. Young 
 blood will not sit so frequently, and so long, on the seventh 
 day, without a desire to stir, which becomes in the brain 
 a remonstrance. 
 
 I may say of my dear little fellow that he was not at all 
 complaining when he spoke to me : but casually stated 
 a fact common to boys. Another, too, it seems, thinks 
 even the seventh day in Norwich a hard day : ' as hard 
 or harder than any one of the other six.' — The truth is, 
 that our Puritanism is beginning to weary even the English 
 world, and much as you are disposed to lighten the claims 
 of worship to poor httle fellows, your being in East Anglia 
 must of a necessity keep you behind us. 
 
 Do forgive me for this ! I feel already that the wind 
 is East on me ! 
 
 I hope my httle man continues to satisfy you ? His 
 master — it is as I predicted. But, I am sure things will 
 turn out better by and by : and can wait — content that 
 he should be under your care. — With kindest good fellow- 
 ship salute to your husband, I am your most faithful, 
 contrite George Meredith.
 
 140 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 To the Rev. Augustus Jessopp. 
 
 EsHEE, 1864. 
 
 My dear Jessopp, — ^Morley's * Writers before Chaucer * 
 is not ' worth buying/ seeing that I am about to bring 
 this book to you. 
 
 Your cheery letter gave me particular peace of mind 
 on a matter that worried me. I trust all will go tolerably 
 well with the book, though what the pubhc will make of 
 3 vols, without a climax of incident (Finis waving no 
 nuptial torch) — the climax being all in a development 
 of character — I am at a loss to imagine ; and so wait 
 patiently, hoping for here and there a critic to interpret 
 me to the multitude. 
 
 As to your proposal (for the Whist 1 11 be one, not- 
 withstanding that I am led to suppose Mrs. Jessopp plays 
 comme quatre !) — I must let the boy decide ; and think 
 he '11 be for Copsham in the county of Surrey. I expect 
 to be able to come to you next Saturday. Or, if Arthur 
 comes to me, shall I bring him back, and stay for a longer 
 term ? I know what sharp feminine eyes will discern in 
 this. It reall}^ isn't base treason — indeed ! I am at her 
 mercy. Write by return of post, that I may get the letter 
 before I leave here. — Yours ever, GeoPvGE MePvEdith. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 The School House, 
 Norwich, April 6 18G4. 
 
 My dear Tuck, — You will have received a copy of 
 ' Emiha ' before this. Though a letter of yours sent to 
 Chapman & Hall was a week old, the laughter in it was 
 fresh. And the picture of Tuck with a chumper in his 
 hand talking majestic about his new domain will not 
 speedily pass into spectral tints. I am very busy. To 
 save myself from poetry (which I haven't done) I am
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 141 
 
 writing a few stories, and shall soon be at a regular jog- 
 trot, and in a new style. Health becoming really good ; 
 conception blooming. I foresee that I shall get knocks 
 on the head from reviewers, and should like to be out 
 of hearing for 3 months, but Courage ! I am here with 
 the Son, who is in good condition. . . . 
 
 I have a work on my hands to correct ; while the boys 
 are in school. ' Mazzini's Works.' There 's a Red Cloak 
 for you, Sir John ! With this, a ta.le, sketch of novel, 
 etc., my hours are occupied. Write, and give me Demi- 
 troia's comments — ^they '11 be cruel. Assure me of j^'our 
 love, old boy ! And know me, George Meredith. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 May 1864. 
 
 Respected Sir, — Indeed if vou are that same Tuck 
 whom I knew, which is possible ; a-be it you no longer, 
 as is told me, wear a waistcoat, boasting the power to 
 embrace 2 sacks of potatoes : if you are the same, I laiow 
 positively that your heart at least will not have diminished 
 and that I am not ejected from it during its daily opera- 
 tions. I have been that busy — but more, I have besides 
 had engagements so numerous — and besides, here 's a man 
 staying with me, Sandys, the artist, pamting a great 
 picture of Spring. He came down here when I came. 
 He will remain probably 2 weeks longer. Dear sir, may 
 I bring him over on Sunday ? My dear Old Boy (for it 
 must be you though you do talk so strange) I am ver}'- 
 anxious to see you. I have been to Norv/icli, to the Isle 
 of Wight, to Tunbridge Wells : I think I shall have to 
 go to Italy, for ever3^body says ' Emilia in Italy ' should 
 be forthcoming as speedily as may be : and I want a httle 
 local colour. You will like Sandys. He is a fine painter 
 and a good fellow. As regards myself, and that 's what
 
 142 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 you like to hear of, I kiiow, I am working at divers things : 
 Wayside Pieces, Odes (To Garibaldi and Beethoven), 
 Soimets, * Emiha in Italy,' ^ the Autobiographic Tale, 
 heaps of MSS, Are not m}^ hands full ? So 's my heart, 
 but there 's always a comfortable chamber there for you 
 both. I was at Cambridge during Newmarket week with 
 certain imdergraduates. The Cook of Trinity distin- 
 guished himself nightly. 
 
 I rode on Beacon turf, but did not bet. I wanted to 
 study the scene, and have done so. I saw my Prins. 
 
 I am in the best of spirits, as perhaps you divine. 
 Health is good and so is power to work, and one daren't 
 pray for more. They elected me for the Garrick. My 
 Tuck, to whom the honour. How is Poco ? There 's 
 no room for him here, or I should have made the request 
 for his society. Write to your much-tried friend, and 
 never judge him harshly. 
 
 I have an instinct that Demitroia has found more 
 excuses for me than j^ou have. — ^Your loving 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 Ethel and NeUie must be well, of course, since they are 
 barely mentioned. My love to them. 
 
 To the Rev. Augustus Jessopp. 
 
 EsHEE, May 18, 1864. 
 
 My dear Jessopp, — ^The (Ipswich) Journal is so full of 
 advertisements that I am postponed, anent the notice of 
 Sermons, weekly, and can't predicate when it will appear. 
 Meantime, send a volume to C. Warren Adams, Esq., 
 66 Brook St., Hanover Square. He will review it (and 
 at least without hostility) in the Church and State 
 Review : I hope this month, but am not certain. I shall 
 try to get a fellow to notice them in a general discussion 
 
 ' Later named ' ViLtoria.'
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 143 
 
 of the subject of school sermons. I am vexed and 
 irritated at the treatment you receive : but it is of this 
 world. — I get slaps for having written ' Emilia.' I am 
 * eminently ' this or that, unpleasant, in Review style. 
 Have you ever met a Reviewer ? It 's curious to see 
 how small this thing that stings can be. — She moves, 
 which is good. A favourable touch to her in the ' Satur- 
 day ' or ' Times ' would launch her into more than the 
 middle of a 2nd edition. I am hard at work on ' Emilia in 
 Italy ' : — All story, te]l IVIrs. Jessopp : no philosopher pre- 
 sent : action, excitement, holding of your breath, chilling 
 horror, classic sensation. I hope to get finished in the 
 Autumn. I have also in hand an Autobiography and 'The 
 Adventures of Richmond Roy, and his friend Contrivance 
 Jack : Being the History of Two Rising Men,' — and to 
 be a spanking bid for popularity on the part of this writer. 
 
 I say ! what a charming line of Rail from Norwich to 
 London by way of Ipswich. But apparently little known, 
 for those who took the journey from Norwich on a day 
 last month were alone in the carriage the entire length 
 of the route ; and really it is hard, for a young lady 
 demands all your resources to amuse her : and I wonder 
 whether I did ! She wants a photograph of the little 
 man. Could one be got for her ? She is well, practising 
 music early, and I still wonder why both of you won't 
 think her very handsome. The will is clearly manifested 
 in your refusal to do so. I mean, handsome, of that style. 
 Some vitality being wanted ; but the lack of it practically 
 compensated by so very much sweetness. Thus may a 
 cold but friendl}^ spectator speak of her ! 
 
 Sandys wiU have been with me next Friday just three 
 weeks. He is painting country for background of a 
 picture of the maiden Spring. 
 
 ' Then came fair ilay, the fairest maid on earth,'
 
 144 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 with heaps of flowers at her feet and immense periwigs 
 of apple-blossom about her poll. She with a look of 
 unconsciousness and a rainbow over her head and such 
 larks in the sky : a nice girl. We walk hard, though 
 Sandys is not much of a leg at it and develops groaning 
 feet, etc. At 7 1 we dine and are uproarious, and I wish 
 and he wishes you were with us. Tom Taylor speaks 
 well of his work in the Academy. I suppose he will be 
 here about a month longer, he has so much to do. He is 
 going to give me a drawing of Arthur, and also of — what 's 
 the name ? I 've forgotten the name of the person, but 
 am not the less grateful for his kindness. This latter in 
 the time to come. I ask him whether he has a message 
 for you, and he says (or tries to say) that one never knows 
 what message to send to those one cares for, except that 
 he 'd be glad if you were here. 
 
 Since we parted I 've been to Tunbridge Wells, to 
 Ventnor, to Cambridge, and half over Surrey. I came 
 here first with Sandys, so you may imagine that I haven't 
 had much time to spare. All kind things to Mrs. Jessopp ! 
 The young lady who made her acquaintance in Norwich 
 says innumerable kind things of her. (I don't mention 
 what is the Norwich return for this ingenuous heartiness.) 
 Addio, dear friend. — I am your loving 
 
 Geokge Meredith. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 May 29, 1864. 
 
 My dearest Tuck, — I daresay you have thought that 
 something was going on to make my love for you seem 
 less faithful and constant than it was. I have an immense 
 deal to tell you, and something to ask you to do. But 
 you must remain m3'stificd until we meet. I would come 
 to-day, but Lethbridj^^e (Smith's partner) is here, and I 
 cannot leave him. Tr}^ to hold yourself disengaged to
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 145 
 
 come on a mission with me next Wednesday. You will 
 be away all night, but Demitroia will excuse it, seeing 
 that it is to make me a new man. I will come on Monday 
 evening or Tuesday afternoon. I hope to get ' Emiha in 
 Italy ' into the Cornhill. Tell my dearest D. that she 
 will be launched on a sea of adventure and excitement, 
 and by the way, thank her for the pretty notice I saw 
 to-day in the ' Saturday.' She gives her criticism very 
 gently. But (tell her this) there is an end now to my 
 working with puppets. I enter active life with my people, 
 and my resolve to merit money, — ^which should mean, to 
 make it. Health sound, and brain in fine working order. 
 I must stop or I shall be rushing into betrajdng ex- 
 clamations. It will not be a severe task for you, this 
 service I require of my friend. D. at your elbow starts 
 one brilliant guess. She is right. Good-bye. — Your 
 loving George M. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 MiCKLEHAM, June 1, 1864. 
 
 My dear Hardman, — Here the word is that Saturday 
 will do better. Also will that suit you ? Please send 
 word to Ch. & H.'s. I shall come to Mickleham on Friday 
 and my M. says we will meet you at Leatherhead station 
 on Saturday, if you will assure us of the train j'ou will 
 come by. She adds that you are to speak your full 
 conviction of me, seeing that her Papa can't bear to lose 
 her, though he always lets his daughters have their way 
 in these matters, sauf the guarantee of moral character 
 and sufficient pecuniary resources, these are the points. 
 God bless you, and take all my thanks for your good 
 heart (and D.'s) to me in this the closest business that 
 ever hugged my heart. — ^Your own George M. 
 
 VOL. I. — K
 
 146 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 To the Rev. Augustus Jessopp. 
 
 EsHEE, June 6, 1864. 
 
 My dear Jessopp, — It is time that your friend should 
 show you a clean breast. — He loves a woman as he never 
 yet loved, and she for the first time has let her heart escape 
 her. She is not unknown to you, as you both immediately 
 divine. She is the sweetest person I have ever known, 
 and is of the family which above all others I respect and 
 esteem. Her father is a just and good man ; her sisters 
 are pure gentlewomen : she is of a most affectionate and 
 loving nature. May I be worthy of the love she gives 
 me ! 
 
 Your surprise over, you will possibly think me rash. 
 My friends, who know of this, think me fortunate, on 
 reflection. They see that I shall now first Uve ; that I 
 shaU work as I have never yet done ; and that, to speak 
 materiaU}'', marriage will not increase the expenses of a 
 man hitherto very careless. My hope stands like a fixed 
 lamp in my brain. I know that I can work in an alto- 
 gether different fashion, and that with a wife and such 
 a wife by my side, I shall taste some of the holiness of this 
 mortal world and be new-risen in it. Alreadj'' the spur 
 is acting, and health comes, energy comes. I feel that 
 I can do things well, and not haphazard, as heretofore. 
 ... I can hardly make less than eight hundred, reckon- 
 ing modestly. And I shall now hold the purse-strings 
 warily. 
 
 I shall not speak to Arthur tiU he is with me. She is 
 very fond of him, and will be his friend. He wiU find 
 a home where I have found one, 
 
 I cannot play at life. I loved her when we were in 
 Norwich. ' Cathedruhsing ' would not otherwise have 
 been my occupation. I believe that I do her good : I 
 know that she feels it. Me she fills with such deep and
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 147 
 
 reverent emotion that I can hardly think it the action 
 of a human creature merely. I seem to trace a fable 
 thus far developed by blessed angels in the skies. She 
 has been reserved for me, my friend. It was seen that 
 I could love a woman, and one has been given to me to 
 love. Her love for me is certain. I hold her strongly 
 in my hand. Write — I thirst to hear words from you. 
 Address to Piccadilly. And if Mrs. Jessopp can feel that 
 she can congratulate my beloved and thank her for loving 
 me — ^Ah ! will she let her know this ? — her address is 
 
 Miss Marie Vulliamy, 
 Mickleham, 
 near Dorking, 
 Surrey. 
 
 Also, teU Mrs. Jessopp that ' Emilia ' is runnmg very fast 
 in Italy, and that we may hope to see the damsel of the 
 fiery South (no longer tripped and dogged by Philosopher 
 or analyst) by late Autumn. I have an arrangement to do 
 a serial for ' Once a Week,' and a series of wayside pieces 
 for the * ComhiU,' Sandys illustrating, is on the tapis. 
 These wiU ultimately form a volume special and I hope 
 popular. Adieu to you both ! Will two be welcome 
 some day ? She has ventured to say that she hopes so. 
 — Your loving George Meredith, 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 June 6, 1864, 
 
 Esher is the address, and your letter to Mickleham 
 astonished us all. I read it and handed it to my beloved, 
 who said — ' How heartil}'^ he writes ! he must be one of 
 your true friends.' Pray, write to her at once, if you 
 have the kindly impulse. It will please her, for I have 
 talked much of you and my feeling for you : of your
 
 148 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 happiness with your beloved, which she would rival. 
 And she wishes to feel that my friends are to be hers. 
 The letter will be a charming surprise to her. An assur- 
 ance also that I am cared for, here and there, and by 
 worthy men. Your wife is sure to love her. If God 
 gives her to me, I may certainly say that our wives will 
 be as much heart in heart as we are. We shall see one 
 another more. Ah ! when you speak of Ploverfield for 
 us during the first sweet days of our union, you touch 
 me deeply and breathe fair auspices. I shall accept, if 
 it can be arranged. I could not choose another place 
 while that door stood open. My friend, I have written 
 of love and never felt it till now. — I have much to pass 
 through in raking up my history with the first woman 
 that held me. But I would pass through fire for my 
 darling, and all that I have to endure seems little for the 
 immense gain I hope to get. When her hand rests in 
 mine, the world seems to hold its breath, and the sun is 
 moveless. I take hold of Eternity. I love her. — She 
 is intensely emotional, but without expression for it, 
 save in music. I call her my dumb poet. But when 
 she is at the piano, she is not dumb. She has a divine 
 touch on the notes. — Yes, she is very fond of the boy. 
 Not at all in a gushing way, but fond of him as a good 
 Httle fellow, whom she trusts to make her friend. As 
 to her family : the old man is a good and just old man, 
 who displays the qualities by which he made what fortune 
 he has. There are three sons, four daughters. The 
 sons are all in business in France — wool manufacturers, 
 or something. They and the girls were strictly brought 
 up at home at Nonancourt in Normandy. Marie was 
 seventeen when seven years ago they came to England. 
 They have been about five years in Mickleham Vale, On 
 Saturday next, Kitty, the third — the one preceding my 
 beloved — is to be married at the little church : Marie
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 149 
 
 being first bridesmaid, and I shall see her. The eldest 
 sister is married to a French officer, who has an estate 
 in Dauphine, and is a good working soldier — ' a rough 
 diamond,' says Marie. The eldest unmarried sister, 
 Betty, is a person of remarkable accomplishments and 
 very clear intellect, vivacious and actively religious : 
 therefore tolerant, charitable, and of a most pure heart. 
 Kitty, the present bride, takes her Christianit}^ with more 
 emotion : she teaches the children of the parish, while 
 Betty every Sunday evening has a congregation of the 
 men and women in a bam. Do j^ou smile ? Much good 
 has been done bv these two women. I saw last Sundav 
 a man rescued by Betty from mveterate drunkenness, 
 and happ3^ They — ^uideed all of them, are thoroughly 
 loved by the poor throughout the district, and respected 
 by aE but the party clergyman, who declares that their 
 behaviour (Betty chief culprit) has been a scandal, and 
 that he will countenance none of them — ^neither marrv 
 them, bury them, nor in any way bless them. I heard 
 him preach last Sunday morning, and Oh ! alas for 
 Orthodox}^ ! Marie, however (she has strong common 
 sense, as have all real emotional natures), takes her own 
 view, and says she thinks Betty wrong in taking the 
 clergyman's work out of his hands. ' But if he doesn't 
 do it ? ' ' Yes, but his curate is anxious to try, and 
 Betty has such influence, and speaks so closely to the 
 hearts of the poor, that they will Hsten to no one else.' — 
 The controversy is at that point. Marie does not go to 
 the barn : but, to please her sister, is willing, now that 
 Kitty goes, to do her best among the children, until she 
 likewise is led away. — To Ploverfield ? I sound the 
 echoes of the future. Oh ! is it to be ? There could 
 not be a fairer, sweeter companion, or one who would 
 more perfectly wed with me. She tries to make me 
 understand her faults. I spell at them like a small boy
 
 150 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 with his fingers upon words of one syllable. Of course 
 some faults exist. But she has a growing mind and a 
 developing nature. Love is doing wonders with her. — 
 I could write on for hours, but I have letters and work 
 calling loudly stop. We shall hve, I fancy, about my 
 present distance from London. But where to find a 
 cottage of the kind I require, is the problem. What you 
 say of income is sensible, and has not been unthought of 
 by me. If I did not feel courage in my heart and a strong 
 light in my brain, I should not dare to advance in this 
 path ; but in those vital points I have fuU promise. 
 I shall now write in a different manner. We will speak 
 further on the subject when we meet. Let me know 
 what day you think I may select to present you. The 
 week after this will exactly do. And the Monday or 
 Tuesday of it would be the best days, if possible ; or 
 add, the Wednesday. Try to give her the whole day, 
 so that you may hear her play in the evening, and see 
 her in all her lights and shades, and know the family — 
 the best specimen of the middle-class that 1 have ever 
 seen — pure gentlewomen, to call one of whom wife and 
 the rest sisters is a great honour and blessing. God 
 bless you, dear fellow. This letter and all the tenderness 
 of my heart is for Mrs. Maxse as well as for yourself. 
 My kindest wishes for Boy. — 1 am ever your loving 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To William Ilardman. 
 
 June 7, 1864. 
 
 My dearest Tuck, — She wishes to see Esher, and a 
 friend drives her over to-morrow. It has been post- 
 poned once or twice . . . What do you think of her ? 
 Is she not worth anything or all in the world ? And she 
 likes you so much — thinks, I beheve, better of me for 
 having such a friend, and hopes that IMrs. Hardman may
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 151 
 
 take to her. I never touched so pure and so conscience- 
 clear a heart. M}^ own is almost abashed to think itself 
 beloved by such a creature. The day when she is to be 
 mine blinds me. Will it come ? It flickers like light- 
 ning in my brain. It will not burn steadily. I can't 
 grasp it. What does this mean ? — I am troubled, but 
 can work. — Your loving George M. 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 London, 1864. 
 
 My dear Maxse, — I have told my darling girl that you 
 will come and inspect her on Monday. She, having a 
 great heart, stands prepared, and a hope is expressed 
 that you will consent to dine there. We will sleep at the 
 Inn or walli: home to Esher, just as you think fit. And 
 how will you arrange to come ? Will you come to Esher 
 in the morning and v/alk to Mickleham in the afternoon ? 
 In that case she will march to meet us. Or will you get 
 out of the train at Guildford and +ake another that will 
 (see train book) put you down at Dorking or Box-hiU 
 station. In that case, we should march to meet you. 
 I confess I should like to see you first ; for I am told by 
 a ladj^ that she would not be considered handsome though 
 she is perfectly charming in manner and in face. I tell 
 you this with a rueful drop of the chin and a yearning 
 strain of the eye. You are to suppose that I have not 
 called her handsome. 
 
 Give my dearest regards, m.y thanks, my kindest 
 wishes, to Mrs. Maxse, who speaks so tenderly of her 
 and me. Write by return post.' — I am ever your loving 
 
 George Meredith.
 
 152 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 At the Sign of ' The Angel,' 
 MiCKLEHAM, July 12, 1864. 
 
 Beloved Family HARDivLiN, — And here is Marie 
 writing a race with me by my side ! The difficulties 
 have been smoothed ; we have indeed plunged through 
 powerful conflicts, and tnily Hke Shadrach, Meshach 
 and Abednego, we Ukewise have passed through fire, 
 and by miracle we bore it and rose from it, fresh, fragrant 
 — did ever man have such a sweet reward ? And behold 
 her lashing her dear wits for next word, and pretending, 
 all the while, to be looking at her sister-in-law ! She 
 has got it ! — ^No. Yes, she is off ! Well, Tuck, I trust 
 our fight is nearly over. The present design is, that we 
 engage a furnished house for a year, and meantime look 
 about for a house that will suit us. I, your Robin, em- 
 boldened b}^ his new and most lovely prospects, have done 
 this : I said to Chapman's, I have done much, will do 
 more : will be in Piccadilly 3 afternoons m the week : 
 will write all your letters anent MSS. : wiU occasionally, 
 when imperative, see the authors (my name not being 
 given) and so forth : thus, as Tuck sees, becoming a chief 
 person, and at no great cost, and with suitable addition 
 to pay. It should be £300. It shall not be less than 
 £250. The matter wiU be settled in a week. Both 
 Edward and Fredlc. were glad of the work I had under- 
 taken to do. Don't my Tuck approve ? I know that 
 Demitroia does. Indeed the family Hardman does, I 
 know. It will be a proper addition to our means, and 
 the economical talk of my blessed Marie is such delicious 
 music ! * Our towels wiU cost — so much : our sheets — 
 so much ; and you mustn't mind its being so dear,' etc. 
 Tuck, you talk of wisdom and you talk of poetry : but 
 beat that, if you can ! Adams, do you know, is doing
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 153 
 
 the ' Career of the Alabama.' ^ He heard of Semmes 
 putting into Cherbourg : started : reached him, after 
 marvellous difficulties with Port Admirals and gens 
 d'armes, on the very eve of his fight with the Kearsage. 
 Semmes hailed him with joy ; he ' wanted some one to 
 whom to confide his papers, and was despairing of finding 
 one.' Gave the papers (journals, etc. Log) to Adams, 
 to do as he pleased with them. I have done the first 
 and last chapter — offered to do the whole, but Adams 
 could only wait five days to get the book out ; so I de- 
 clined this fiery proximity to the printers' devil. Adams 
 has been in a dressing-gown ever since, is blue about the 
 chin, as if blown up in a recent naval engagement, and 
 has generally the appearance of an elongated Mantalini 
 returned to his wife, but legless. By the way, there 's 
 a highly appreciative summary of my literary deeds in a 
 lengthy article in the Westminster Review. The New 
 Novel (Vittoria) is going on swimmingly. Sandys has 
 heard the first 150 pages, and says it is extremely inter- 
 esting, and likely to be by far the best thing I have done. 
 Lucas is charmed with the sketch of the Autobiography; 
 but owing to certain changes going on in relation to 
 0. a W. he has not yet sent word for me to start away. 
 Thus we are in a Httle uncertainty. Oh Lord ! Tuck, 
 here 's my heart swelling and sinking like night waves 
 pressing to a beacon-light. Oh ! that it were over. 
 My compliments to Albrecht, with whom I hope to make 
 acquaintance : Poco and mj^seK intend to compose an 
 Essay on ' The Occurrences,' illustrated by the meeting 
 in this world of Albrecht and Tuck. 
 
 I had intended to walk over to Hampton and see j'our 
 darlings before writing, but this is Wednesday, and I shall 
 have no afternoon to myself before Saturday, the day 
 
 ^ Probably The, Cruise of the Alabama and the Sumter (Saunders. 
 Otley and Co., 1864).
 
 154 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 you name as the last for Bellagio. More letters, dear 
 old boy ! 
 
 God bless you both, and keep you jolly ! 
 
 WE realise your happiness ! Aha ! WE ! — Your loving 
 
 George M. 
 
 To the Rev. AuguMus Jessopp. 
 
 Ploverfield, Bursledon, 
 Southampton, July 1864. 
 
 My dear and good Friend ! — I know that you are 
 excusing my singular way of treating you. 
 
 There will be provision and beds at Copsham on Monday 
 for you and Arthur ; a carriage shall be provided to bring 
 you on to Mickleham, my friend Hardman will call for 
 you and take you up. The ceremony will have to be 
 performed earh', for Hardman has to make a rush to 
 be in Liverpool at a brother-in-law's marriage the day 
 following. 
 
 You have perfect faith in me — I feel it. I have a new 
 arrangement to settle with Ch. & Hall : I expect to get 
 the conductorship of a new jMagazine : weU supported. 
 I have laid lines right and left : engaged to do a 1 vol. 
 story within a certain term : and in short spread traps 
 for money everywhere. . . . — ^Your loving 
 
 George M. 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 MicKLEDAM, Dorking, Avgust 29, 1864. 
 
 My dear Fred, — I write with mj'^ beloved beside me ; 
 my thrice darling — of my body, my soul, my song ! I 
 have never loved a woman and felt love grow in me. 
 This clear and lovely nature doubles mine. And she 
 has humour, my friend. She is a charming companion, 
 as well as the staunchest heart and fairest mistress. You 
 will not fail us on our marriage day ! — A goodl}'' host of
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 155 
 
 friends will be here. Janet and Sir Alec come — and Oh ! 
 I would that the day were over. . . . Will it be possible 
 to get a cottage near the New Forest, or in it ? or near 
 Ploverfield, for two weeks, until my friend's house is 
 open to us ? I shall come to you in about a week on 
 my way to Normandy, to fetch hither Marie's married 
 sister, who wishes to be present on the great occasion. 
 You will see the three together, and what charming 
 creatures they are. I am quite fixed in this place, and 
 all are kind. The old man is changed, and makes the 
 best of the bad business for him. He proposes to buy 
 Copsham, or any likely spot, and build a house there for 
 us, with a portion of the money he settles on Marie. 
 Meantime we take a furnished house for six months, in 
 or near Kingston. You and your wife, my friend, will 
 visit us. I loiow that your wife will find a large-hearted 
 friend in mine. You, too, will find that your friend is 
 another man. I think my work must prosper under such 
 noble influence. — ' Vittoria ' does not proceed fast, but 
 the matter is of a good sort. I 've half a mind to bring 
 you half a dozen chapters to read to you. My Marie 
 copies them regularly. — There 's a chance of my getting 
 an under Editorship of a new Review : a fellow who 
 is merely to be titular chief, acting as head. I presume 
 I shall be paid well. It is decided in a couple of months. 
 More when we meet, on this subject. I fancy it may be 
 a good thing. 
 
 When I come to you I must expend a day at L}Tidhurst 
 in search for the furnished cottage, but, could j^ou mean- 
 time make inquiries ? I wish it to be tolerably near 
 Ploverfield. — How of your health ? You are silent 
 upon that. Were I with you a week I would bring you 
 into a better state. Now that I am no longer fretted, 
 and running twice a day between Mickleham and Cop- 
 sham, I begin to feel my strength agam. — Marie says at
 
 156 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 my elbow — ' The worst of being at Ploverfield is that 
 Captain Maxse and his wife will be away when we are 
 there.' This is not to be always the case. Adieu. 
 My kind regards (we must sit together and invent new 
 phrases) to Mrs. Maxse. Write, saying whether j^-ou can 
 receive me next week — Friday week ? — Your loving 
 
 George M. 
 
 To the Rev. AuguMus Jessopp. 
 
 Sept. 20, 1864. 
 
 My dear Jessopp, — As to the Poems : I don't think 
 the age prosaic for not buying them. A man who hopes 
 to be popular, must think from the mass, and as the heart 
 of the mass. If he follows out vagaries of his own brain, 
 he cannot hope for general esteem ; and he does smaller 
 work. ' Modern Love ' as a dissection of the sentimental 
 passion of these days, could only be apprehended by the 
 few who would read it many times. I have not looked 
 for it to succeed. Why did I write it ? — Who can account 
 for pressure ? . . . 
 
 Between realism and idealism there is no natural con- 
 flict. This completes that. Realism is the basis of 
 good composition : it implies study, observation, artistic 
 power, and (in those who can do more) humility. Little 
 writers should be realistic. They would then at least 
 do solid work. They afflict the world because they will 
 attempt that it is given to none but noble workmen to 
 achieve. A great genius must necessarily employ ideal 
 means, for a vast conception cannot be placed bodily 
 before the eye, and remains to be suggested. Idealism 
 is as an atmosphere whose effects of grandeur are wrought 
 out through a series of illusions, that are illusions to the 
 sense within us only when divorced from the groundwork 
 of the real. Need there be exclusion, the one of the 
 other ? The artist is incomplete who docs this. Men
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 157 
 
 to whom I bow my head (Shakespeare, Goethe ; and in 
 their way, MoHere, Cervantes) are Reahsts an fond. But 
 they have the broad arms of Ideahsm at command. They 
 give us Earth ; but it is earth with an atmosphere. One 
 may find as much amusement in a Kaleidoscope as in a 
 merely idealistic writer : and, just as sound prose is of 
 more worth than pretentious poetry, I hold the man 
 who gives a plain wall of fact higher in esteem than one 
 who is constantly shuffling the clouds and dealing with 
 airy, delicate sentimentalities, headless and tailless ima- 
 ginings, despising our good, plain strength. 
 
 Does not all science (the mammoth balloon, to wit) tell 
 us that when we forsake earth, we reach up to a frosty, 
 inimical Inane ? For my part I love and cling to earth, 
 as the one piece of God's handiwork which we possess. 
 I admit that we can refashion ; but of earth must be the 
 material. — ^Yours faithful, George Meredith. 
 
 To Miss M'Einch. 
 
 Southampton, 1864. 
 
 My dear Bridesmaid No. 1, — I am quite well. Are 
 you quite well ? We are quite well.- — The conjugation 
 being thus concluded, I proceed to tell you that we have 
 set our hearts (strike out the ' s ') upon your coming down 
 here. Not that we are in need of even you, but we 
 want to show you a picture of perfect felicity, and think 
 it will do you good. Perhaps we may not mind talking 
 to you, but we do not promise that we shall. Now, you 
 good friend of my beloved, understand me clearly that 
 we both wish to see you very much, and to have you with 
 us when we are at Ploverfield, for the reason that you are 
 dear to us in the first place, and in the second that we 
 think we can amuse you here and give you pleasant 
 yachting. We go to Ploverfield the first week next
 
 158 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 month. It will be a shame to take you from your Aunt. 
 I must confess I should do so without compunction. 
 Having taken Marie, I am capable of anything ; and if 
 I could discern a really deserving fellow — but Mrs. Smith 
 need not fear : they are not too numerous and we have 
 none at hand. We are on the point of going for a sail. 
 Marie is at work terminating her letter opposite to me. 
 She says that she is happy, and I beheve the woman. 
 Whither has the philosopher in me fled ? Possibly you 
 may have keener eyes. Come and use them. You see, 
 I am not afraid of you. Do persuade Mrs. Smith to part 
 with you for a short term. I promise to take every care 
 of my Bridesmaid. I beg you to present my most re- 
 spectful compliments to ]\Irs. Smith and to kiss Evelyn 
 for me mightily. Marie shall repay you for the outlay. — 
 I am your most faithful Geokge Meredith. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 Ploverfield, Bubsledon, 
 Southampton, Oct. 12, 1864. 
 
 My dear Lord Abbot, — I am working mightily. 
 Last night I awoke, and at 3 o'clock struck a light and 
 wrote a poem on Cleopatra for the ' Cornhill,' to suit 
 Sandys's illustration. Also an * Ode ' to the Napiers 
 (part of it) and part of ' The Ex-champion's Lament.' 
 I say, Young Copperfield ! I never had such a fit on 
 me since the age of 21 ; and my good love, waking too, 
 joyfully assisted by lending notcpapcr and soothing me 
 for having disturbed her slumber. 
 
 The air here, the views from the house and proximity 
 to still water make the place glorious : and the house is 
 comfortable as could be desired. Here would I fix, were 
 it possible ! Write, most venerable Father ! I really
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 159 
 
 trust to have a 1 vol. novel for January, ripe and ready. 
 ' Rhoda Fleming, a Plain Story.' — Your loving 
 
 George M. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 Ploverfield, Bursledon, 
 Southampton, Oct. 24, 18G4. 
 
 My dear Lord Abbot, — You frisk not in your letters 
 to me. I pay you due respect, but an you continue this 
 tone of formahty, by God, I will unfrock you ! Know 
 that Marie is the wife of a Pantagruel ; she is sublime 
 in laughter. We sit on a humourous Olympus, and rule 
 over the follies of mortals. . . . Your letters are seen, 
 forsooth ! Your letters, oh my father, are reverently 
 handled. . . . Life here is jolly. I rise, bathe, run, and 
 come blooming to breakfast, having tied up Sam the 
 vagabond dog, who breaks Maxse's heart, who in return 
 does his best to break Sam's back. I treat the dog 
 differently, and being a Celt myself, the Irishman compre- 
 hends, and loves me, and won't leave me. To-day we 
 went out fishing in the boat, and Sam would follow, 
 swimming a mile. 
 
 The house is most pleasant. We cannot accustom 
 ourselves to anything smaller. And yet. Tuck, tell me 
 of Thames Cottage, for I haven't heard from the faithless 
 Dame Douglas, who swore she would write, and send 
 agreement. . . . ' Rhoda Fleming ' is a right excellent 
 story. If I compress it into one volume I shall bring 
 it back complete. In any case it will be out in the winter. 
 ... I shall rejoice to see the Hall. But, my father, in 
 your future letters, date them from the Refectory, as 
 of yore. I give myself seven years, and then, an I be not 
 a pallid ghost, I will fix here my abode. By the Nine 
 Gods ! Fancy a salt river, crystal clear, winding under 
 full-bosomed woods, to a Clovelly-like village, house
 
 160 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 upon house, with ships, and trawlers, and yachts moored 
 under the windows, and away the flat stream, shining 
 to the Southern sun till it reaches Southampton Water, 
 with the New Forest over it, shadowy, and beyond to 
 the left, the Solent and the Island. 
 
 This is possible from our window. 
 
 The air makes athletes. All round are rohing woods, 
 or healthy hills. The Roads are hard : but one can't 
 have everything. I am a man of Bursledon, mark you. 
 Adieu ! I must to work. The clock 's on 12. I fondle 
 Rhoda for an hour and then retire. Out with the hghts ! 
 Tell me much news. We like to know that the world 
 lives. There 's trouble ahead : a cook, I cry ! If Nature 
 really abhors a vacuum, she '11 come. Once more Adieu. 
 Your loving George M. 
 
 To Mrs. Anne Waugh. 
 
 Ploverfibld, Oct. 1864. 
 
 My dear IVIrs. Waugh, — I don't forget the good heart 
 you showed us during our days of trouble and uncertainty. 
 Here is Marie writing to you, and I rise up spontaneously 
 to speak for myself and tell you how happy I am, and 
 what a capital wife I have got. I hke the women who 
 discerned her when yet undiscovered because I know 
 that such women must be attracted by common sense, 
 simple goodness of heart, and similar if noble quahties, 
 dear to me as well. So I take a blunt way of compli- 
 menting you, do you see ? We should be glad to hear 
 from you tidings of the student Frank ; and are indeed 
 glad to hear from the valley. You heard that the wedding 
 passed like smooth music ? And I had to make a speech, 
 owing to the man who carried my hat : — the wretch had 
 basely strung together some neat httle illustrations 
 wherewith to return thanks for the bridesmaids. He
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH IGl 
 
 couldn't give them up, and I was compelled to stand 
 before all and make the perfect sacrifice of myself. The 
 whole business now presents itself to me as if I had been 
 blown through a tube and landed in Matrimony by 
 Pneumatic Despatch. — I am, my dear Mrs. Waugh, your 
 most faithful Geoeqe Meredith. 
 
 To the Rev. Augustv^ Jessopp. 
 
 Plovekfield, Buksledon, 
 Southampton, Oct. 1864. 
 
 My dear Jessopp, — Now, on the last evening of my 
 stay here, I write to you, having been intending the 
 thing from the day of my arrival. The truth is, I write 
 little to you because I love you so well : which is a paradox 
 on the surface only. When I think of writing my bosom 
 swells to its fullest, and I shrink in dismay from the 
 thought of emptying it, I that write for money, money, 
 money ! — Do you see that ? I grasp the pen frenziedly 
 now : more I fear from a feeling of duty, or because I 'm 
 ashamed not to have written. We return to Mickleham 
 to-morrow. To Esher in about a week. Marie is a capital 
 wife, and my little man will now have a mother. — I say ! 
 Do you know that you have made an impression on 
 Miss Vulliamy ? It 's too true. As a consequence, she 
 will not, I think, write the review of your vol. of Sermons, 
 as she once promised. I will press it. But why are you 
 handsome ? and why is your manner charming ? — Thus 
 the women pronounce : and I 'm dreading that it will 
 go against the plan I had of getting Miss V. to do the 
 Review. * She would not dare.' Rev. Apollo ! to 
 these things should'st thou look : nor frizz the lock, nor 
 modulate the tones. For if you carry about the battery 
 it is useless to plead that you shot not, neither did you 
 aim. 
 
 VOL. I. — L
 
 162 LETTERS OF GEORGE IMEREDITH 
 
 Forgues, in the ' Revue des deux Mondes,' is translating 
 
 * Emilia.' 
 
 A publisher with whom I have an appointment this 
 week proposes to give me four figures (with no dot 
 between) for a novel. Am I rising ? The market 
 speaks ! 
 
 I have, during the last month of my stay here, written 
 250 pages of ' A plain Story ' of 600 pages (2 vols.). 
 ' Vittoria ' lags : but will be good, I see. I have had 
 to resist awful temptation in the matter of verse : and 
 succumbed once or twice. Smith (of the * Cornhill ') while 
 
 * personally admiring " Martin's Puzzle," is compelled 
 to say he thinks it would offend many of his readers, 
 and must therefore beg to, etc.' The * Cleopatra ' to 
 Sandys's illustration is done. ' Lines ' merely ! Not of 
 much value, but containing iire as well as wind. — When 
 shall we meet ? — I shall be a millionaiee next year. 
 My ' plain story ' is first to right me and then the 3 
 volumer will play trumpets. Write to me — perhaps the 
 Garrick Club is the best address for two or three weeks 
 about Wednesday and Friday time. Give my love to your 
 wife, whose dear hearty face I long to see. Will you, 
 will you, will you come to us at Christmas ? — Adieu. 
 Here I am, and could go on now almost to the verge of 
 the soup, beyond the dinner bell. 
 
 Take my heart and my name at the bottom of it. 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To Miss J // . 
 
 193 Piccadilly, London, W., Nov. 22, 1864, 
 The chief fault in your stories is the redundancy of 
 words which overlays them ; and the chief hope visible 
 in them is the copious youthful feeling running through- 
 out. Your characters do not speak the language of 
 nature, and this is specially to be charged against them
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 163 
 
 when they are under strong excitement and should most 
 do so. Nor are the characters very originally conceived, 
 though there is good matter in the Old Welshman C. Rees. 
 Your defect at present lies in your raw feeling. Time 
 will cure this, if you will get the habit of looking reso- 
 lutely at the thing you would pourtray, instead of ex- 
 claiming about it and repeating yourself without assisting 
 the reader on in any degree. We certainly think that 
 you are a hopeful writer, and possibly wo have been 
 enough outspoken to encourage you to believe us sincere 
 in saying so. 
 
 To Miss J // . 
 
 193 Piccadilly, London, W. 
 
 Madam, — You speak of the exclamatory style as being, 
 you think, essentially and naturally feminine. If you 
 will look at the works of the wi'iter of ' Adam Bede,' you 
 will see that she, the greatest of female writers, manifests 
 nothing of the sort. It is simply a quality of youth, 
 and you by undertaking to study will soon tame your 
 style. Interjections are commonly a sign of raw thought, 
 and of vagrant emotion : — a literary hysteria to which 
 women may be more subject than men ; but they can 
 talk in another tongue, let us hope. We are anxious that 
 you should not be chagrined by any remarks that we 
 have made. There is real promise in your work : but 
 remember that the best fiction is fruit of a well-trained 
 mind. If hard study should kill your creative effort, 
 it will be no loss to the world or to you. And if, on the 
 contrary, the genius you possess should survive the process 
 of mental labour, it will be enriched and worthy of a good 
 rank. But do not be discouraged by what we say ; 
 and do not listen to the encomiums of friends. Read the 
 English of the Essayists ; read de Stendhal (Henri Beyle)
 
 164 LETTERS OF GEORGE INIEREDITH 
 
 in French ; Heinrich Zschokke in German (minor tales). 
 Learn to destroy your literary offspring remorselessly 
 until you produce one that satisfies your artistic feeling. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 MrcKLEHAM, Dec. 18, 1864. 
 
 Beloved Tuck, — The Christmas season causes that 
 contemplation should make you specially its object. 
 Marie went in the afternoon for a second edition of 
 
 the Reverend B ... I aloft, to Mickleham Downs, 
 
 where the great herded yews stand on a pure snowfield. 
 I thought to have fallen on the very throne of Silence. 
 In a few paces I became a Druid. Time withered from 
 the ends and all his late writings were smudged out, till 
 I lived but in the earlier days of Britain, when he with 
 difficulty made his mark. It was a sublime scene, that 
 long roll of the unfooted snow, with the funeral black 
 plumes of the yews spreading in a dumb air, as if aU 
 had ceased, or nothing was begun. Embraced by it, my 
 spirit conjured up a passionate desire to snowball Tuck, 
 till he cried himself a sinner. I moaned that the man 
 was not there, that I might snowball him, till fainting 
 he dropped to earth. 
 
 Eh ! What a change of the course of our fortunes. 
 Tuck ! I am married, and thou Lord of Norbiton, and 
 all these things were dreamed not a year back. Where- 
 fore must I think truly there is a Spirit and a peculiar 
 Spirit, to the new year, and I greet you and wish well to 
 you and yours (who also are mine) in the year to come. 
 
 To the Rev. Augustus Jessopp. 
 
 Gakrick Club, Autwnn 1864 (7). 
 My dear Jessopp, — . . . The ' Fine Arts ' and 
 * Laurence Sterne ' await you, just unpacked. Classical
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 165 
 
 books have no chance with Chapman & Hall — and Oli, 
 the Catullus ! Which is in another box, and which I 
 want to put my hand to before you print it. 
 
 . . . Have you heard that the Countess Guiccioli has 
 two continuation cantos of Don Juan, and means to 
 publish them ? Likewise more of Byron ! — He 's abused, 
 so I take to him ; and I 'm a little sick of Tennysonian 
 green Tea. I don't think Byron wholesome — exactly, but 
 a drop or so — Eh ? And he doesn't give hmp, lacka- 
 daisical fishermen, and pander to the depraved senti- 
 mentalism of our drawing-rooms. I tell you that ' Enoch 
 Arden ' is ill done, and that in twenty years' time it will 
 be denounced as villanous weak, in spite of the fine 
 (but too conscious) verse, and the rich insertions of 
 tropical scenery. Now, then ! — are we face to face, 
 foot to foot ? — Forgues is translating ' Emilia ' (some- 
 what condensed) very well in the ' Revue des deux 
 Mondes.' . . . 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 Garrick Club, Jan. 14, 1865. 
 
 My dear Fred, — . . . It was my intention to write 
 the Verses at Ploverfield. I will write and send them 
 — that is, if you agree with my view. 
 
 Verses, because they fix a child's memory and remain 
 with him, and become a part of his child's understanding 
 of reverence, perforce of the music, and necessitate 
 simplicity of expression. 
 
 I hold to the word * Father.' No young child can 
 take the meaning of ' Spirit.' You must give him a 
 concrete form, or he will not put an idea in what he is 
 uttering. He must address some body. Later, when 
 he throws off his childishness, he will, if you are watching 
 and assisting him, learn to see that he has prayed to no
 
 166 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 false impersonation in addressing an invisible ' Father.' 
 If you do otherwise than this you are in danger (as I 
 think) of feeding his mouth with empty words. 
 
 Of Creed not a syllable. 
 
 Now let me ask you for a piece of advice. Marie and I, 
 following your example, are abjuring (we follow it ten- 
 tatively) alcohohc liquor. We find the water dreadfully 
 cold, though one pledges Purcell ! and the other Fred ! 
 We suppose that we shall get used to it, as you and your 
 Water-God have done. But now our water-pipes are 
 frozen. We have nothing to drink. Please what are 
 we to do ? Answer before we choke. — Ever your loving 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To the Rev. Augustus Jessopp. 
 
 The Cedars, Jan. 30, nigJit, 1865. 
 
 No, my dear Jessopp : for this there is no necessity. 
 But, hear ! the man went and got married : it was well 
 for him : he bought linen, ho bought plate, disbursed 
 early and eke late : the fat end of his purse did set 
 flowing towards his fireside, and the lean was to them that 
 did accredit him. So. And meantime, in prospect of 
 the needful, he put aside ' Vittoria ' (which contains 
 points of grandeur and epical interest) to ' finish off ' 
 Rhoda Fleming in one volume, now swollen to two — and 
 Oh, will it be three ?— But this is my D' D'- D' un- 
 certain workmanship. You see, I am three days in town, 
 and I am hustled with moving and can't get my shoulders 
 into a place, but the toe of Fate talces me somewhat 
 lower and away I go ; and this is not favourable to com- 
 position, though my dear wife does all that she can for 
 me, and would hush the elements, bidding them laiow 
 me pen in hand. However, I hope in six weeks to be 
 clear of Miss Rhoda, into whose history I have put more
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 167 
 
 work than she deserves. I wrote in saddest spirits, 
 rare with me. Stomach, my friend. I am not in the 
 bracing air which befits me. But, in future I will bo 
 punctual. By degrees I will reduce the portentous 0. U.'s. 
 And I thanlc you with all my heart for the friendly peace- 
 breathing letter. It 's precious balm to read. — ' Vittoria ' 
 is one third towards completion. Did you see the trans- 
 lation of ' Emilia,' by Forgues, condensed, in the ' Revue 
 des Deux Mondes ' ? He has apparently taken to me ; 
 he sent for Rd. Feverel to review. A New Edition of 
 * Shagpat,' with an illustration to ' Bhanavar ' by Sandys, 
 comes out in a month. — Marie has, I believe, written 
 fully anent the Son. We mourn and howl over him — 
 When are we four to meet again ? You see, there is a 
 new witch now, and she 's a darling. — Adieu, for a 
 space ! — I am your loving George Meredith. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 April 19, 1865. 
 
 Dear Sir, — Am I to be damned to all eternity because 
 I curse at a vile organ now afflicting me with the tune of 
 Jack Robinson, presently to be followed by the 100th 
 Psalm, and the simulation of the groans of a sinner. 
 
 Perhaps you will put this before your reverend friend. 
 But are you not to be damned in the present for permit- 
 ting the infliction, and not at least commanding a fresh 
 importation of organs into Kingston, and the exit of 
 the old. 
 
 This is a matter for you to reflect upon. — I am, dear 
 sir, even as a Chestnut on the Hob, your bursting 
 
 Author.
 
 168 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 Kingston, 1865. 
 
 My dear Fked, — Great thanks for the game decorating 
 our larder. — ^Miss Longworth ^ has something to complain 
 of, and I thinkDr. Hunter ^ an e£Fronte Yankee. But surely 
 you admit that British Juries are commonly sentimental 
 to an infinite degree in favour of the protesting female ? 
 The late verdicts are merely a reaction. — I must tell you 
 that I am becoming an admirer of President Johnson. 
 And have you seen the Book called Sherman's great 
 March ? If you get it, examine the heads of his Generals. 
 They are of a peculiarly fine cast and show the quafities 
 of energy and skill, and also race. They are by no 
 means vulgar. Place our best men (headed by the Duke 
 of Cam) alongside them, and start. The contrast will 
 not be flattering to us. — Hawthorne has just the pen to 
 fascinate you. His deliberate analysis, his undramatio 
 representations, the sentience rather than the drawings 
 which he gives you of his characters, and the luscious, 
 morbid tone, are all effective. But I think his delinea- 
 tions untrue : their power lies in the intensity of his 
 egotistical perceptions, and are not the perfect view 
 of men and women. — Goethe's elective Affinities — the 
 
 ^ Maria Theresa Longworth (71832-1881), authoress, and plaintiff in 
 the Yelverton case. In the summer of 1852 she was introduced to 
 William Charles Yelverton, afterwards Viscount Avonmore. In 1855 
 she accepted his proposal of marriage, and though the engagement 
 was for a time suspended, on April 12, 1857 Yelverton read aloud the 
 Anglican marriage service at IMLss Longworth's lodgings in Edinburgh, 
 and they wore afterwards married at the Roman Catholic chapel at 
 Rostrovor in Ireland, and lived together both in Ireland and Scotland. 
 On June 2G, 1858, Yelverton formally married the widow of Professor 
 Edward Forbes, and on October 31, 1859 MLss Longworth sued him for 
 restitution of conjugal rights. She failed to win her case then, and 
 though the Irish court upheld her, the Scottish and English courts 
 declared against her. 
 
 * Dr. Robert Hunter, who brought an action for Ubel against the 
 Pall Mall Oazette, Nov. 10, 18G5. He won his case : damages one 
 farthing.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 169 
 
 Wahlvenvandtschaften — would delight you, as they have 
 nourished Hawthorne. — I wish I were going to meet you 
 at Lord Hardwicke's. I like my Lord. — I am very hot 
 upon ' Vittoria.' Lewes says it must be a success ; and it 
 has my best writing. I fancy I begin in the ' Fortnightly ' 
 in February. Perhaps I have given it too historical a 
 character to please the brooding mind of Fred. But, 
 we shall see. I think one must almost love Italy to care 
 for it and the heroine. There are scenes that will hold 
 you ; much adventure to entertain you ; delicate bits 
 and fiery handling. But there is no tender dissection, 
 and the softer emotions are not kept at half gasp upon 
 slowly-moving telescopic objects, with their hearts seen 
 beating in their frames. — Marie thanks you warmly for 
 the monograms, which are doubtless very pretty jugglery 
 and show how one M can stand on the head of another 
 and have W interlacing his legs — like a basketful of 
 lampreys. — Give my love to the boys and make Freddy 
 remember me. I kiss your Cecilia's fingers, and am 
 ever your loving friend, George Meredith. 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 MiCKLEHAil, 1865. 
 
 My dear Fred, — It will annoy and astound you to 
 hear that I consider Bixio brave and constant, though 
 I question whether much is gained by any individual 
 action before there is cause for general discontent. 
 Merely to deny, is not to show a love for truth. It shows 
 fanaticism — which is evidently what dehghts you so 
 much. The fanatical worship of truth will always be 
 fruitless : it is nothing better than the embracing of a 
 phantom. For, what is Truth ? Bixio could state 
 nothing. He fires a sounding shot while there is peace, 
 and against a superstition which, in the present day,
 
 170 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 rather averts intolerance than invokes it. What I ven- 
 ture to say is, Live on and be placable under some trifling 
 irritation, till men are near a majority (or nearer to one) 
 in contempt of imposture ; or till the apprehension of 
 priests prompt them to commence their old game. At 
 that hour is time enough for us to think of action. A 
 tyro in conspiracy will tell you that these isolated pro- 
 tests never exist. Some (miserable philosophers) have 
 said that they owe their origin to vanity. I am not quite 
 of that opinion. It is worthy of your school to rush at 
 once on a presumption that, as I differ from you, I must 
 be a time-server. The Faggot-and-Torture priests said 
 likewise — ' If not for, against us.' You appear to me 
 to want to raise up an extreme party that shall rouse 
 the other party to extremes, and so do battle-fight for 
 a shade ; gain what Time would have given you without 
 waste of blood, temper, and divine meditation. Between 
 you Philosophy would have no home on our planet. 
 You presume moreover to declare yourself as if, per- 
 ceiving a system to be faulty, it was an imperative duty 
 to explode every shred of it to the winds. You must 
 bear in mind that Christianity will always be one of the 
 great chapters in the History of Humanity : that it 
 fought down brutishness : that it has been the mother 
 of our civilization : that it is tender to the poor, maternal 
 to the suffering, and has supphed for most, still supplies 
 for many, nourishment that in a certain state of the 
 intelligence is instinctively demanded. St. Bernard 
 checked Abelard, it is true. But he also stood against 
 the French Barons, rebuked and controlled them. The 
 Church was then a Light. Since it did such a service to 
 men, men I think should not stand out against it without 
 provocation. — You speak, my dear Fred, of ' the deepest 
 questions of life.' They are to bo thought over very 
 long and very carefully before they are fought over. I
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 171 
 
 cannot think that men's minds are strong enough, or 
 their sense of virtue secure, to escape from the tutelage 
 of superstition in one form or another, just yet. From 
 the Pagan divinity to the Christian, I see an advanced 
 conception, and the nearer we get to a general belief in 
 the abstract Deity — i.e. the more and more abstract, the 
 nearer are men to a comprehension of the principles 
 (morality, virtue, etc.) than which we require nothing 
 further to govern us. — I write expecting dinner bell. — 
 As regards Hawthorne, little Meredith admits that your 
 strokes have truth. I strive by study of humanity to 
 represent it : not its morbid action. I have a tendency 
 to do that, which I repress : for, in delineating it, there 
 is no gain. In all my, truly, very faulty works, there is 
 this aim. Much of my strength Hes in painting morbid 
 emotion and exceptional positions ; but my conscience 
 will not let me so waste my time. Hitherto consequently 
 I have done nothing of mark. But I shall, and 'Vittoria' 
 will be the first indication (if not fruit) of it. My love 
 is for epical subjects — not for cobwebs in a putrid corner ; 
 though I know the fascination of unravelling them. 
 'Vittoria' begins in the 'Fortnightly' on February 1st, if 
 not Jany. 15th. 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 Kingston, Friday, 1865. 
 
 My dear Fred, — I look over your recent letters (your 
 pertinacious defence of your untenable position and 
 ingenuous affectation of a triumph being amusing to 
 me) and find questions I have not answered. 
 
 A man named Greenwood, newly eltd. to the Garrick, 
 is the Editor of 'PaU Mall.'— The 'bar of Michael Angelo'i 
 has puzzled hundreds. I can't attempt to explain it. 
 
 ^ Cf. In Meinoriam.
 
 172 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 I have been foolish enough to thini: that it must mean 
 a pecuhar girder-hke hanging brow that one sees on 
 Buonarotti's face. Great poets attain a superior lustre 
 by these obscurities. If I had written such a line, what 
 vehement reprobation of me from Ploverfield ! what 
 cunning efforts to construe ! and finally what a lecture 
 on my wilfulness ! In Tennyson it is interesting. In 
 Browning you are accustomed to gnaw a bone and would 
 be surprised to find him simple. But G, M. who is not 
 known, not acknowledged, he shall be trounced if he 
 offers us a difficulty — we insist upon his thinking in our 
 style. Very well, Fred. I am used to it. — No, I hate 
 the black East, and I don't like the frost ; I Uke nothing 
 in Kingston. But I envy you the fine S. W. now showing 
 soft white and blue, and taking you in its arms. Adieu ; 
 mark two or three points (a few will serve) in my advice 
 to you from time to time, and note and communicate 
 your sensations when at last you appreciate and adopt 
 them — for scientific purposes ; not for my satisfaction at 
 all. — Ever your friend, George M. 
 
 To Captain Maxse^ 
 
 1865. 
 In re Bixio?- 
 
 Dearest Fred, — There is no such thing as a sum 
 
 ^ Girolamo Nino Bixio, born at Chiavari near Genoa in 1821. He 
 enlLstod in the Sardinian marine service soon after 1835, and remained 
 in it till 184G. In 1848 ho shared in the revolutionary excitement, 
 enrolled himself as a volunteer, and took part in the defence of 
 Viconza and of Venice. In the following year he wa.s severely wounded 
 in the defence of Rome. After rendering other services under Garibaldi 
 to the cause of Italian Liberation, he took command of the vessels in the 
 expedition of 18G0, and at Marsala led one of the battalions of volunteers. 
 He was the second of ' the Thousand.' Ho held chi'»f command in the 
 battle on the Volturno, and there defeated the Noppolitan troops in 
 their attempt to surround Garibaldi. At the close of the war he entered 
 the Italian army. He died in 1873 in the East Indies.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 173 
 
 of successive protests in favour of Truth, when those 
 protests are not directed by wisdom. Will bawlings in 
 the street avail, save to disturb and annoy the lieges ? 
 They irritate the slumbering dominant party, without 
 strengthening the insurgent. What is being done in 
 the ' Fortnightly,' for instance, and elsewhere, is effi- 
 cacious, and does strengthen, while it increases, the 
 silent band. Let Philosophy sap the structure and work 
 its way. What we have to anticipate is this : There is, 
 and will further be, a falling off of the educated young 
 men in seeking an establishment as Churchmen. These 
 are highly educated, and in their nature tolerant. They 
 are beginning to think for themselves, and they give 
 their lives to other matters. The Church will have to 
 be recruited from a lower, a more illiterate, necessarily 
 a more intolerant class. These will find themselves at 
 variance with their intellectual superiors, and in self- 
 defence will attempt to wield the Dogma and knock us 
 down with a club. In about twenty years' time we 
 may expect a conflict to come. If in the meantime we 
 alarm such placid fellows as we see in the clerical robes, 
 we are really doing Truth no service. Objectless (that is, 
 indistinct, blind) protests, are like all unseasonable things, 
 useless, and are shelved as mother nature shovels away 
 the dust which does not serve her. Let Bixio do as 
 pleases him ; I don't complain ; I say, that he is not an 
 example — except for a constitutional rebel, and he is a 
 curiosity, and will never get followers. 
 
 In reading Carlyle, bear in mind that he is a humourist. 
 The insolence offensive to you, is part of his humour. 
 He means what he says, but only as far as a humourist 
 can mean what he says. See the difference between 
 him and Emerson, who is on the contrary a philosopher. 
 The humourist, notwithstanding, has much truth to 
 back him. Swim on his pages, take his poetry and fine
 
 174 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 grisly laughter, his manliness, together with some splendid 
 teaching. It is a good set-off to the doctrines of what is 
 called the ' Empirical school.' I don't agree with Carlyle 
 a bit, but I do enjoy him. 
 
 You should read Lewes's article on Comte in the 
 ' Fortnightly ' before this : — also Harrison's on ' Co- 
 operative labour.' 
 
 Tell me what you think of * Vittoria.' Lewes is 
 enamoured of her. I know the workmanship is good. 
 Further I am unable to judge. 
 
 As regards Gilmore's house, I should like to take it. 
 But I have determined to save up and put by, and endure 
 this place (if possible) for the three years' term. And when 
 I move I will move to a fixed place. Rich men may be 
 houseless rovers : it upsets poor ones. Besides, wives 
 don't like foreign houses and won't let their hearts' fibres 
 cling to any place not their own — don't you know that ? 
 
 Willie Maxse is the sweetest blooming little man in 
 all the world — (Yes, Mrs. Fred, in all the world !). His 
 ready smile is lovely. He develops splendidly, and on 
 mere mother's milk. Yet, though he is flourishing so 
 well and acts like clockwork, we have a throng of people 
 saying, * Oh ! he must be fed by hand as well : no 
 mother can stand it, no child can thrive, etc' ; and their 
 own children, thus according to their system, bottle and 
 biscuit fed, wheeze and cough and wake of nights and 
 have convulsions — God knows what. With such parents 
 we may expect fools at least in the next generation. 
 
 I trust the two dear lads will go on well. Salute Freddy 
 from me. — Your affectionate George M. 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 Garrick Clttb, 1865. 
 
 My dearest Fred, — Let him be your lay godson. 
 As regards the ceremony, it is a piece of the old secondary
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 175 
 
 barbaric system of teaching men to be humane ; and is 
 of the same class as Freemasonry, in which you bind 
 yourself to help a man, because he knows how to press 
 your knuckles in a particular manner. I can't bear 
 asking men to do this ; but I do wish the boy to have 
 some little link with you, such as your name will give 
 him. 
 
 We differ in our spirit of objection to the dominant 
 creed : but I suppose that twenty years hence we shall 
 not differ. When the Ministers of Religion press on 
 for an open rupture by attempts at persecution, it will 
 be time to take rank under colours : until when I hold 
 myself in reserve. I don't want the day to be advanced. 
 I think you altogether too impetuous : 500 years too 
 fast for the human race : I think that where the Christian 
 Ministers are guilty of httle more than boredom, you 
 have got them in a state of perfection, and at least owe 
 them your tolerance for theirs : — And so I shall continue 
 to think until next I go to Church. Adieu. 
 
 To G. H. Lewes.^ 
 
 Kingston Lodge, Dec. 9, 1865. 
 
 My dear Lewes, — I shall be glad to make over to 
 you the use of the copyright of my novel ' Vittoria ' for 
 issue in the ' Fortnightly Review,' in consideration of 
 the sum of £250 : all subsequent rights to the use of it 
 being reserved by myself. Your saying ' write to me ' 
 did not seem to imply ' write immediately or there will 
 be no contract.' In fact, I supposed you were careless 
 about any stipulation until more of my work had been 
 submitted to you. I am hard at it, and as carefully as 
 possible. Pardon me, if my apparent neghgence shall 
 have put you out. I thank you very much for your fore- 
 
 * The friend of George Eliot ; then editing the Fortnightly Review.
 
 176 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 going letter, which quite solves my difficulty, and settles 
 the matter justly. — If my progress seems to you slow, 
 remember that I am on foreign ground and have to walk 
 warily. I read a good deal of the novel to Mdme. Venturi 
 the other day, who says that the Italian colouring is 
 correct. 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 KiKQSTON Lodge, 
 Kingston-on-1'hames, S.W., Jan. 8, 1866. 
 
 My deak Fred, — We have returned, and if this S.W. 
 holds, I shall rejoice to see Ploverfield on Saturday. But 
 if it freezes again ? Well, you shall write and command. 
 I want to come. — I certainly think that prayer is good 
 for children. It is good even after the period when 
 blind reverence ceases to be fruitful — it is good for men. 
 It is at once an acknowledgment of some higher power : 
 it rouses up and cleanses the nature, and searches us 
 through to find what we are. Only, the praying for 
 gifts, and thanking for gifts, is really damnable. It 's 
 like treating the Lord as an old uncle. A child should 
 pray in verse — don't you think so ? I have thought of 
 trying to write a morning and evening song for Freddy. 
 Say if you care to have them. Arthur used to repeat 
 some lines. 
 
 Oh ! I quite acknowledge that I am conquered by 
 you. But then, I never attempted to get the better of 
 you. The more you flourish the prouder I am of my 
 work, and if you prefer to give your gratitude in due form 
 to a medical man, I don't complain ; you choose the least 
 humiliating alternative, as you may think. There was 
 a report in London yesterday that you had given up 
 Meat. I hope this is not true, though I know I used to 
 tell you that we consume too much meat, and you (I 
 remember) appeared to reflect on my words. The deter-
 
 LETTERS OP GEORGE MEREDITH 177 
 
 mination which you hinted, that you would by and by 
 abstain from clothing yourself, will not I trust be carried 
 into effect. It would please none but Monboddo's ghost. 
 I have in fact said that we wear too much clothing — still, 
 Fred, it is surely an excess to forswear a single garment, 
 and rely upon hair to cover your body, as you look to 
 impudence to protect your shivering arguments ! 
 
 I long intensely to see you and walk with you : and 
 I shall correct you very gently. Don't forget that mental 
 arrogance is as a fiery wine to the spirit — a little of it 
 gives a proper pride : but you carry too much. Adieu. 
 I bow to your Cecilia, and am your loving George M. 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 Kingston Lodge, April 25, midnight, 1866. 
 
 My dearest Fred, — . . . The article on the ' Tra- 
 vailleurs de la Mer ' is Morley's ; I think it scarcely does 
 justice to the miraculous descriptive power. The Storm 
 is amazing : I have never read anything like it. It is 
 next to Nature in force and vividness. Hugo rolls the 
 sea and sweeps the heavens ; the elements are in his 
 hands. He is the largest son of his mother earth in this 
 time present. Magnificent in conception, unsurpassed — 
 leagues beyond us all — in execution. Not (nur Schade !) 
 a philosopher. There 's the pity. With a philosophic 
 brain, as well as his marvellous poetic energy, he would 
 stand in the front rank of glorious men forever. 
 
 His occasionally dirty speech is just a part of his 
 grotesque greatness. It costs me nothing to overlook 
 it — especiall}^ in this age of satin. 
 
 Fryston is the dullest house with the dryest company 
 in the dismallest country I have ever visited. Houghton, 
 of course, was pleasant, but I think I could never travel 
 two miles to go there again. 
 
 VOL. I. — M
 
 178 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 . . . Have the articles in the ' Pall Mall G.' on coal 
 and England's prosperity made you a trifle uncomfort- 
 able ? 
 
 Gladstone's behaviour has been wretched. 
 
 Doubtless a combative Berkeley would have supported 
 him in spite of conscience. I can hear you making a 
 short speech in condemnation of the Government while 
 you promise to record your vote in its favour. Next to 
 fighting the world, fighting oneself is the prime luxury ; 
 and to put yourself in such a position that you will have 
 to do the latter, because you have done the former, is 
 genius. It must be an intense grief to you to be out of 
 Parliament now. — I take no interest in Reform. I see 
 no desire for it below. If there were, I would give it ; 
 I have no fear of Radicals. Democracy must come, 
 and the sooner it overflows rulers who are cowardly, the 
 better for all. We say — Democracy, as if it were some 
 deadly evil ; whereas it is almost synonymous with 
 Change. Democracy never rests. The worst of it is 
 that it can be violent in its motion. To you, who prefer 
 the Allopathic system of medicine, it will come as a 
 natural matter. Good-night, dear Friend. Write to 
 me, and often. 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 MiCKLEHAM, June 8, 1866. 
 
 My dear Feed, — Don't think I desert you. The 
 truth is, that to write poHtics satisfactorily, one must 
 give up one's time to the study of poUtics — one must be 
 in the thick of the fight. And only in such cases can 
 you exact from Editors a proper respect for you. You 
 must prove that your political opinions are worth having 
 in type, or be so useful to them that they can't refuse 
 to insert them. Now Greenwood, and doubtless our B.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 179 
 
 as well, don't regard me as a political writer, so I am 
 always in danger of slipping into the waste-paper basket, 
 unless I write review or essay. They rely on a sufficient 
 number of handy men to supply the wants of their 
 journals. And the truth is, I can only now and then 
 afford time to write an experimental article on pohtics. 
 When my last debts are paid, and I have finished my 
 next novel, I shall have a free hand. I 'm sure you don't 
 suppose that I willingly abandon you to your fight. 
 I could have no wish but to stick by you, and the more 
 so as your views are mine. 
 
 Moreover, Editors object to articles upon subjects 
 which are not immediately prominent. I tried the 
 * Pall Mall ' with your pamphlet, but Greenwood was in- 
 different in tone. The subject will revive speedily, but 
 the moment it lay down it was temporarily dead for 
 Editors. — I have not meant to say I will not write unless 
 I see my pay — but that it 's heart-breaking to feel that 
 I have given up my time, with some amount of ardour 
 in a theme, all to no purpose save to see my manuscript 
 as the froth tossed up from the wheel of an Editorial 
 mill. — But surely, even though you should feel some 
 disappointment with me, you accuse my circumstances 
 more than me. — Adieu. Your sketch of the Grebe ^ 
 flying to Havre drives me mad. I hope Mrs. Fred will 
 enjoy the week at Ascot and have the long, blooming 
 holiday thoroughly due to her. — ^Your loving 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To Miss J E 
 
 193 Piccadilly, 
 London, W., June 15, 1866. 
 
 The Reader of Miss J H 's tale of ' Anwyl 
 
 Anwyl ' presents his compliments to her, feehng pro- 
 
 ^ Captain Maxse's cutter yacht.
 
 180 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 foundly guilty — for the blame of this long delay rests 
 entirely upon him. He put the MS. aside, after he had 
 read it ; his intention was to write a long chapter on 
 what to write, blot and avoid. He can say in personal 
 
 extenuation that Miss H could not possibly have 
 
 made any ' commercial ' use of the tale ; and that if 
 she had published it, it would have done harm to her 
 reputation. 
 
 The Reader is in town on Thursday next, and, if it 
 
 shall please Miss H to listen to a few of his critical 
 
 objections to her style, perhaps he may be enabled to 
 do her more good in that direction than if he attempted 
 to write them down. Therefore, should she be willing 
 to call at 193 Piccadilly on Thursday at four p.m., he 
 will endeavour penitently to repair his shameful behaviour. 
 The truth is, he did nothing at all, because of his having 
 intended to do so much. 
 
 If Miss H should prefer to avoid vocal criticism it 
 
 shall be written down, but it will possibly not be so 
 effective, and it may seem more severe. 
 
 In making this proposal, the Reader has taken an 
 unusual course by which he trusts to be able to show 
 his desire to expiate his previous carelessness. It needs 
 hardly to bo said that obscurity is his most comfortable 
 cloak, whenever he undertakes the thankless duty of 
 looking at a MS. 
 
 In June 1866 Meredith went, on behalf of the Morning 
 Post, to the seat of war in Italy. On June 22 he was at 
 Ferrara with Cialdini's army corps — at Cremona on the 30th 
 — at Bozzolo, the headquarters of the eleventh division of 
 the Italian army, on July 3 — at Mio headquarters of the 
 army on July 7 at Torre Malum berti — thence he moved to 
 the new headquarters at Piadena and on to Treviso. He left 
 Italy and reached Marseilles, after a voyage of thirty-six 
 hours, on July 24. He returned to Italy in the following
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 181 
 
 month. (See Correspondence from the Seat of War in Italy. 
 Memorial Edition and Edition de Luxe of the works of George 
 Meredith.) 
 
 To Tom Taylor.^ 
 
 MuLAN, Se'pt. 10, 1866. 
 
 My dearest Tom, — Bird had left for Ischl when your 
 letter reached me in Vienna. I write in case you should 
 see Mowbray Morris and have favourable news to com- 
 municate to say that my address will be for the next six 
 weeks : ' aux soins de M. Theodore VuUiamy, a Nonan- 
 court (Eure), France.' 
 
 I came over the Semmering to Venice, remained there 
 three days and worked my way through Padua and 
 Vicenza hitherwards, where from the upper windows of 
 the Hotel Cavour I see the White Alps. Italy is where 
 I would live if I had the choice. Here I am so happy 
 that I only want my wife and little ones with me to wish 
 for nothing further. In all probability I shaU be back 
 in Venice for the fetes, if the delay is not great. The Mg. 
 Post should have an account of them. Perhaps Borth- 
 wick will insist on my doing the work, and I shall not be 
 sorry ; for what a correspondent wants is something to 
 describe, and not to continue writing about nothing. 
 
 Do you remember the Carpaccios in Venice ? Surely 
 justice is not done to his extraordinary sweetness and 
 richness. If I did not love Giorgione and Titian so much, 
 I should rank him vciy favourite. His faces are as sweet 
 as Fra Angelico's, wdth variety and humanity superadded. 
 The Baptism of Christ in the Church of San Lorenzo, 
 Vicenza, by Giov. Bellini is the only Christian head of 
 
 1 Tom Taylor (T. T. of Meredith's 'To a Friend Lost'), editor of 
 Punch, who wrote the famous lines on the death of Lincoln (April 14, 
 1805), * You Iny a wreath on murdered Lincoln's bier,' for which ho 
 received the thanks of Congress.
 
 182 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 the Saviour that I have ever seen. I dare say you know 
 it. Curious to see the ebbing of the Austrians out of all 
 this district ! I have sent the • Post ' some letters, but I 
 must reduce my impressions to an article. 
 
 I hope very much that the * Times ' will take me on. 
 In a settled position (I wish it were in Italy), and with 
 command of news, or the sources of it, I believe I should 
 show the requisite judgment. Adieu, my dear Tom. 
 If there is anything I can do for you in North Italy, write 
 immediately to the * Hotel Cavour, Milan.' If you won't 
 hke ' Vittoria ' (pure obstinacy or base siding with the 
 majority) I promise you quite another sort of next novel. 
 Kiss your little girl for me and give her a stranger's love, 
 and God bless you all. — I am your affectionate 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To Algernon Charles Swinburne. 
 
 Kingston Lodge, Kingston-on-Thames. 
 My dear Swinburne, — * Vittoria,' as I am told by 
 Chapman and others, is not hked ; so you may guess 
 what pleasure your letter has given me. For I have 
 the feeling that if I get your praise, I hit the mark. It 
 seems that I am never to touch the public's purse. Why 
 will you content yourself with only writing generously ? 
 Why will you not come and see me ? My wife has con- 
 stantly asked me how it is that you do not come. Must 
 I make confession to her that I have offended you ? It 
 is difficult for me to arrange for spare evenings in town ; 
 I can't leave her here alone. If we meet, I must quit 
 you only too early. I wonder whether Sandys would 
 invite us to dine with him ; when we might have one of 
 our evenings together, and come to' an understanding 
 about future evenings at Kingston. I will speak to him 
 on that head. — I am very eager for the poems. The
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 183 
 
 promise of the essay on Byron makes me extremely 
 curious, for though I don't mistrust your estimation of 
 the manhness of his verse, he is the last man of whom 
 I would venture to foretell your opinion. — As to the 
 Poems — if they are not yet in the press, do be careful 
 of getting your reputation firmly grounded : for I have 
 heard ' low mutterings ' already from the Lion of British 
 prudery ; and I, who love your verse, would play 
 savagely with a knife among the proofs for the sake of 
 your fame ; and because I want to see you take the first 
 place, as you may if you will, — ^Apropos, what do you 
 think of Buchanan's poetry ? Lewes sends him up I 
 don't know how high. My feeling is that he is always on 
 the strain for pathos and would be a poetic Dickens. 
 But I can't judge him fairly, I have not read his book. 
 Adieu. Remind Moxon of the Byron, and write to me 
 again. — I am ever your faithful Geokge Meredith. 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 Kingston on Thames, S.W., 1866. 
 
 My dearest Fred, — I was too late for the post yester- 
 day, but you know how such good news will have glad- 
 dened me. 
 
 Our Willie Maxse is quite charming ; he is healthy 
 and spirited, and very intelligent. You should see his 
 face when he is laughed at. His sense of humour, with a 
 momentary disgust at finding himself the mark for it in 
 others, produces the most comical expression possible. 
 Marie says she can understand some dehght in welcoming 
 a boy ; but a girl ! who would care for a girl ! 
 
 The system by which you are correcting your troubled 
 physical condition is, I am sure, sound. To a strong 
 stomach occasional draughts of wine do good rather
 
 184 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 than harm. Our fault is to eat in excess while we drink 
 wine as well. One dish and one pint of wine, old and 
 sound, go harmoniously, but wine should be treated as 
 a luxury. — I agree with your practical deductions, at 
 the same time, I note with dismay your tendency to 
 extremes. You are right just now. Nevertheless you 
 must needs lay down positive principles as if your exist- 
 ing state were the key of things. You will become a 
 fanatical Retired Admiral advocating Maine Liquor laws 
 for every natural appetite on earth, and dogmatically 
 refusing to hear an opinion. I foresee it, — ^unless you 
 can be humble while there 's yet time, and admit that 
 I am right, who preach moderation, and you are wrong, 
 who raise the banner of Abstinence with all its tissue in 
 tatters. — I dare say you will continue to deny that it was 
 I who gave you the good advice months — years back. 
 And then probably when we are old men you will consent 
 to my saying it was I who did it. Dogmatism con- 
 founded in the last crisis escapes by a quibble ! How 
 much better to take a manly, modest view of a friend's 
 deserts : — I do congratulate you with all my heart on your 
 prospect of recovery, which I think clear. Only, I am 
 amused at the physiological lecture. Why, I have said 
 as much a hundred times ! But you now turn round, 
 and with supernatural force hurl my own wisdom at 
 me, and say, Read that ! Surely the ai^gumentative 
 virus was never more wonderfully displayed. If the 
 trick is old, it is at any rate uncommonly well managed : 
 and no doubt almost unconsciously. Confess to my 
 value in one bright instance, and even you would hardly 
 be able to stand against me in other matters, so, to main- 
 tain your antagonism, you affect an air of total inde- 
 pendence. Such tactics will serve you well in the House 
 
 of Commons. — What do you think of Lieutenant B ? 
 
 He seems to be the victim of a poor education and a super-
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 185 
 
 fluifcy of red pepper. Still, I don't like to see all the 
 English Press down on him, for he 's a boy, and isn't it 
 rather hard to break him for writing insolent letters to 
 an M.P. ? Wouldn't it be sufficient to degrade him in 
 rank, as he is already in reputation ? — But when our 
 Press is unanimous, I am always against it. Our Press 
 
 was unanimous in favour of Lieutenant P till he 
 
 showed too unmistakeably as a low dog. — Borthwick 
 starts to-day for Marseilles, thence with Sir Henry 
 ... to Malta, to Tunis, to Spezzia, to Rome, to Nice 
 — et vogue les papillons ! — Adieu, dear friend ; I don't 
 like to leave off talking to you. — Your ever loving 
 
 George M. 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 The Old House, Mickxeh^vm, 
 Dorking, Dec. 22, 1866. 
 
 My dear Fred, — I cannot accept the illustration of 
 the mackerel. It is ingenious, and no more ; though 
 it may be praised for throwing a side light on the mental 
 characteristics of the discoverer. If you had always 
 turned sick at the smell of wine, to force you to drink 
 any wine would be cruel and wrong. If half a mackerel 
 were daily plumped down the throat of a man who had 
 never in his life taken 10 ft of mackerel per diem, it 
 would be monstrous to subject him to the meal. But 
 if he has eaten much mackerel — too much — there is 
 (supposing virtues to exist in mackerel as in wine) no 
 harm in asking him to take a Httle, from time to time. 
 I, for instance, should say to him — ' The 10 lb a day 
 were a poison to you ; but that is no reason why the 
 occasional half mackerel should be the same. You 
 fancy it, because one excess begets the conception of 
 another : you have become the victim of a kind of 
 mental elephantiasis — ^you fancy all things as immen-
 
 186 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 sities ; you cannot understand the value of an inter- 
 mediate measure. I warned you again and again that 
 10 lb of mackerel per diem was excessive, etc., but 
 mackerel is nourishing. Really, Fred, I have driven 
 you hard to make you fall back on the mackerel argu- 
 ment — Mackerel is poison to some, ergo, wine, which is 
 likewise poison to some, should be similarly avoided. 
 But I tell you that Mackerel, if hurtful to any consti- 
 tution, shows itself noxious from the first and won't be 
 taken. And if wine is really bad for you, a glass would 
 originally have inspired you with all the wisdom you 
 insist on having gained for yourself in contempt of your 
 best advisers now. On the contrary, wine has never 
 poisoned you, but a wilful resolve to take as much as 
 you pleased of it (do you remember Cherbourg, where 
 you would, despite an agony of protestation from me, 
 order and drink a bottle of Burgundy at a third-rate 
 Norman provincial hotel) — that has done the work of 
 poisoning your health. At this festive season, my dear 
 Fred, one reflects on your fearful relapse from clear and 
 eminent sense, with a melancholy deeper than wrath. I 
 know what is coming next. I have anticipated it and 
 written it down. I will mention it another time. 
 
 What I dread most is that you are by these still degrees, 
 as it were, boiling, or simmering, yourself down to a sort 
 of human type, and engine. When you think you think 
 suddenly, vehemently — with the force and swiftness 
 of a meteor, and perhaps with the result, but in any case 
 your apparent incapacity to hsten to the wisdom thrust 
 in your way, is fraught with incalculable evils, and more 
 and more I feel Fred going and an eccentric Force usurp- 
 ing his place. I will allude to this further by and by. 
 Do you feel for the Pope yet ? The Holy Father is 
 unfortunately situated, surely. — I am ever yours, 
 
 George M.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 187 
 
 N.B. — I confess I have written without consideration 
 as to whether it is kind to knock over the theories by 
 which you assure yourself that your wildest changes of 
 system are sound and admirable. On my honour, I am 
 careless about gratitude, though the sight of ingratitude 
 naturally pains. 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 Kingston, Jan. 17, 1867. 
 
 My dear Fred, — Pardon me — just one moment ; you 
 see, I turn to you from my work and give you a sheet 
 that should have formed part of my magnum opus : 
 ice-water is not wholesome. Farmers will not give 
 frozen water to their cattle, and melted ice, to be drink- 
 able, must be clean — a thing difficult to obtain. But 
 when taken it should be, as all civilized people will tell 
 you, partly in solution. Ice, but not ice-water, is a 
 specific for indigestion, though one to be rarely used. 
 Compelled to set you right ! 
 
 I think that you take a philosophically false estimate 
 of a child's intelligence and nature. He retains what he 
 learns just as much and no more than he remains what 
 he is. Certain mental, and physical, food is necessary 
 for him. Beware of training him to scepticism ! I can't 
 bear to think of a boy as being educated in opposition 
 to the opinion prevailing. — The title ' Father ' really 
 does not suggest the aspect of a man to a child's imagina- 
 tion, if you associate it with prayer to an Unseen One. 
 Neither does the jingle of Nursery Rhymes destroy his 
 sense for the pure flow of good verse. The prayer you 
 sketch is not objectionable ; but it is not enough to 
 my mind. I will in a few days send you a version. I 
 would not say ' God,' but ' Father of aU Good.' The 
 title ' God ' is bestowed by a child (in obedience to the
 
 188 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 inquiries he has made) on him who rolls the thunder and 
 sends the currants that form the pudding. He may always 
 retain this notion. I am sure your excellent ]\Irs. Lewis 
 does, perhaps her estimable husband likewise. But the 
 ' Father of all Good ' soon grows to mean the utmost in 
 the regulated mind of a child. I am afraid I can't see 
 how a child is to pray to Jesus Christ as Man : but one 
 may teach him to pray to be likened to him as when 
 he walked the earth. — Ever yours, George M. 
 
 To Algernon Charles Sivinburne. 
 
 Kingston Lodge, 
 Kingston-on-Thames, March 2, 1867. 
 
 My dear SwmBURNE, — I have waited to read the Ode,^ 
 and also to ship off my Arthur for Switzerland. The 
 Ode is the most nobly sustained Ijo-ic in our language, 
 worthy of its theme. Broader, fuller verse I do not know. 
 I had a glance at the proofs, and my chief sentiment was 
 envy. Now I can read without that affliction. For 
 me there will never be time given even to try the rising 
 to such a song. I am passionately anxious to see the 
 * Italy ' 2 and have a thousand spirits of fancy about it. 
 Let me know when you return to town, and when you 
 will come and pay us a visit. I need not say that my 
 wife will be glad to see you. Has she not fought your 
 battles ? I was in Austria when the heat of the storm 
 was raging. I returned from Italy in the winter after all 
 was over. It would not have been my advice to you to 
 notice the reviewers : but it 's certainly better never to 
 keep red-hot shot in store, and perhaps one broadside 
 in reply does no harm. I wish rather that it had been 
 
 * ' Ode on Insurrection in Candia,' 
 » ' A Song of Italy ' (1867).
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 189 
 
 done in verse. As for the hubbub, it will do you uo harm, 
 and you have partly deserved it ; and it has done the 
 critical world good by making men look boldly at the 
 restrictions imposed upon art by our dominating dam- 
 nable bourgeoisie. — ' Vittoria ' passes to the limbo where 
 the rest of my works repose. You alone have hit on the 
 episode of the Guidascarpi. I have not heard or seen 
 another mention of it. I would have carried it into fulness, 
 but the vast machinery pressed on me. My object was 
 not to write the Epic of the Revolt — for that the time is 
 yet too new : but to represent the revolt itself, with the 
 passions animating both sides, the revival of the fervid 
 Italian blood ; and the character of the people : Luigi 
 Suracco, Barto Rizzo, etc. Agostino Balderini is pur- 
 posely made sententious and humourously conscious of 
 it : Carlo Ammiani is the personification of the youth 
 of Italy of the nobler sort. Laura Piaveni and Violetta 
 d'Isorella are existing contrasts. — I am afraid it must be 
 true that the style is stiff ; but a less condensed would 
 not have compassed the great amount of matter. — I see 
 the illustrious Hutton of the * Spectator ' laughs insanely 
 at my futile effort to produce an impression on his public. 
 I suppose I shall have to give up and take to journahsm, 
 as I am now partly doing. — ^Yes ! if you could get a 
 place to say something of ' Vittoria ' ! Morley stated your 
 suggestions to me, and appeared willing that it should be 
 done in the ' Fortnightly,' if your, or some such good 
 name fathered the article. But his opinion is that it 
 should be a general review of me : the writer could dwell 
 on the work pleasing him best. There is some doubt 
 about giving a special review of a novel that has appeared 
 in the ' Fortnightly' pages. Adieu, my friend. I beg you 
 to write to me, as I have requested. Arthur is away, by 
 this time in Berne. What is the address of Sandys ? 
 I do not see him at the Garrick. — I want you to bring
 
 190 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 Baudelaire when you come ; and anything you may 
 think of besides, in the way of verse. I am being carried 
 ofif from the Singing. I stand on an inexorable current. 
 I shall look forward to meeting you with great pleasure. 
 — Your faithful and affectionate George Meredith. 
 
 To Algernon Charles Siuiriburne. 
 
 Garrick Club, Jan. 27, 1868. 
 
 My dear Swinburne, — The * Fortnightly' is no longer 
 in the hands of a company but of a publisher, who tries 
 to diminish the expenses as much as he can ; the editor 
 being the chief sufferer. I had to pay for the two poems. 
 * The Halt before Rome ' has evidently been omitted 
 from the list of what is due to you. When I see Morley 
 I will state youv complaints to him : but from the sum 
 he gets it 's scarcely possible to pay more, without doing 
 80 out of his own pocket. It will grieve him as it does 
 me to hear that you are dissatisfied. — I received for my 
 ' Phaethon ' (about 150 hues) £5. 
 
 Do, — if it 's not possible, as I suppose, to buy a copy 
 of Hugo's poem, lend it to me for a day or two. They say 
 that Garibaldi has replied to it in verse. 
 
 I propose to come and lunch with you some afternoon. 
 Will you have me ? I will stay from two or three to 
 six, and if we are alone, we will give and take, though I 
 shall take ten times the worth of what I give. — I have 
 just got your ' Blake.' M. Conway's notice of it in the 
 ' Fortnightly ' is eulogistic, but whether sufficient and 
 closely and warmly critical I can't yet say. My wife 
 and WilHe hope to greet you in the warm Spring days. — 
 Yours ever faithfully, George Meredith.
 
 I LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 191 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 MiCKLEHAM, Jan. 28, 1868. 
 
 My dearest Fred, — Historicus (on board his Thames 
 wherry) completely smashes Seward (in his Leviathan 
 Monitor).! 
 
 I am one of those who think the Monitor would sink 
 the wherry in an engagement, and wish to silence the 
 conquering sound of noisy writers. 
 
 If the spirit of the nation were of your temper, I should 
 counsel Historicus's show of independence for the nation 
 at large. Fred, it 's clear there 's no such spirit now in 
 this pot-belhed country — none of it. Bend, while you 
 can do so with a pretence of dignity. I declare to you, 
 I have watched the changes of mood in the Government, 
 the Journals — say, the people : and I have seen them 
 moved by apprehension and by panic, and by nothing 
 else in their foreign relations ; by httle else in their 
 dealings at home. The aristocracy has long since sold 
 itself to the middle class ; that has done its best to 
 corrupt the class under it. I see no hope but in a big 
 convulsion to bring a worthy people forth. The monied 
 class sees the same, and reads it — ^will do anything to 
 avoid it — will eat Historicus's words and him rather 
 than accept the challenge he provokes. You are misled 
 by your natural hot chivalry, and don't perceive the 
 humiliations you are bringing on. 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 1 This refers to tho controversy over the Alabama claims. Historicus 
 was Sir WilUam Vernon Harcourt. Seward was Secretary of State in 
 President Johnson's cabinet. In 1868 Lord Stanley expressed a will- 
 ingness to refer the Alabama claims to arbitration ; but the negotia- 
 tions were interrupted by the demand put forward by Seward that 
 the British recognition of the Southern States as belligerents should 
 bo taken into account in computing the damages.
 
 192 LETTERS OF GEORGE :MEREDITH 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 Box Hnx, Jan. 31, 1868. 
 
 Dearest Tuck, — I have been, so please your Worship, 
 hard at work, old boy, or I should have written to your 
 honourable Bench. — Confound this reminiscence of your 
 greatness under which I lived three whole years ! May 
 it please — no, it doesn't please you nor me neither. 
 Sooner or later, as Shirley Brooks says, I was going to 
 write, but I had to manage the ' Fortnightly ' for Morley 
 during his absence in America, and that with incessant 
 composition and pot-boilers kept my hands tied. But 
 I am training my toes (first and second of right foot) to 
 indite epistles and 'Ips. Journal' while I pursue my course 
 complacently above. So no one will be complaining, 
 unless it be Her Majesty ; for there 's a chance that in 
 a fit of distraction I may stick a corn-plaster on the 
 envelope instead of a Queen's Head — a horrible thought 
 and an abominable. Right so. Tuck, and have you read 
 England's Book.^ It sent me up Box Hill dancing a 
 Tupper-jig. 
 
 Oh, Tuck ! What is mortal splendour after all ? 
 There may be Purgatory for thee after thou hast ceased 
 to plant a forefoot on the necks of criminals — sniflSng the 
 incense of Kingstonian praise. Well, pass we to lighter 
 themes. Thine ideas are those of the Crowned. I am, 
 I was, I always shall be, a vagabond. And Heaven must 
 love such to take me in. This is veritably as I state it. 
 
 Wilhe Maxse has months past had you pointed out 
 to him (cap on, cigar in mouth, cock in th' eye — generally 
 likerous expression) in our book of photographs. He was 
 looking at it yesterday, and coming to you, he cried, 
 ' That 's dear Godpapa.' He flourishes. Who could 
 
 ' My Journal of Life in the Highlands, by her late Majesty Qucon 
 Victoria.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE IklEREDITH 193 
 
 help doing so here ? I am every morning on the top of 
 Box Hill — as its flower, its bird, its prophet, I drop 
 down the moon on one side, I draw up the sun on t' other. 
 I breathe fine air. I shout ha ha to the gates of the 
 world. Then I descend and know myself a donkey for 
 doing it. Forsooth, Tuck, I have to remain in harness an 
 unconscionable time (see Poems in ' Macmillan,' ' Fort- 
 nightly,' 'Cornhiir (to come), and articles in ' M. Post,' 
 etc. etc., and my desk bursting with MSS.). 
 
 Now as to your invitation. I '11 come if I can, and I 
 thinli I can. I have to put off a pre-engagement if 
 possible. You will see me (if I do come, as I hope) about 
 3 P.M. Sunday. I can't sleep away from home, as it 
 appears to upset Marie, and we have not yet a dog, and 
 do on the left side lean on the wilds, where there are 
 rabbits, and may be weasels. So to soften a wife's 
 imeasiness, I leave Surbiton 9.10 that night; catch 
 Wimbledon 10.1, home about 11.5 p.m. 
 
 Norbiton, I salute thee. Tuck, I love thee. To thy 
 wife my amiablest salutation, and as affable a bow as 
 Briton on his guard dare be guilty of to thy fair guest. — 
 Thine, G. M. of Box Hill. 
 
 To Arthur G. Meredith. 
 
 Garrick Club, Feb. 8, 1868. 
 
 My dearest Boy, — I have carried about this piece of 
 Club paper for a fortnight, having been intending to 
 commence a letter to you there, and unable either to do 
 that or to go on with it since. My time is occupied with 
 work, and I am, or rather, have been, much distracted 
 by affairs. My two months down with Captain Maxse 
 was a dead loss of time to me.^ I never regret anything 
 
 ^ In the Southampton election of 1867 Captain Maxse stood as 
 Radical candidate. Meredith was an active worker on his behalf. Cf. 
 Beauchamp^s Career. 
 
 VOL. I. — N
 
 194 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 I am able to help him in, as you will believe, but that 's 
 another matter. We were badly beaten at Southampton, 
 but I think it will be proved that bribery was done there. 
 We on our side were not guilty of it, I know. It is a 
 very corrupt place. It has been found by experience of 
 the enlarged franchise that where there are large labouring 
 populations depending upon hire (especially in a corrupt 
 and languishing town like Southampton) they will be 
 thrown into the hands of the unscrupulous rich. At 
 all events this is one of the evils we have to contend 
 against until the poor fellows know by enlightenment 
 where their own interests lie and the necessity for their 
 acting in unison and making sacrifices. Old Toryism 
 has still a long spell of hfe in this country where the 
 vitality has need to be strong in the centre of thick decay 
 that won't be shovelled out. — I fancy Captain Maxse 
 had to pay about £2000 for the attempt. He acted 
 simply in a spirit of duty, that he might enter Parliament 
 to plead the cause of the poor, — Our commercial failures 
 of two years back still press on us. Artists and authors 
 suffer particularly. But the strain will be over with 
 me very soon. My novels have been kept back by 
 having had to write on newspapers — the only things that 
 paid. — So take this as a moral : don't think of literature 
 as a profession. I believe you to have too much good 
 sense. — Who are the kind people of the name of Nicolls 
 whom 5'^ou visit in Berne ? — Mr. Burnand asked after you 
 the other day, and sent his love to you. He still writes 
 regularly on * Punch ' and puts plays on the stage. He 
 is a distant relative — is he not ? — of M. Emile Burnand 
 your master. — I calculate that I shall be free in June, 
 about the middle of the month, and may be with you then 
 or later for a tour together. But would you prefer to go 
 with the other fellows, and spend some days with me 
 afterwards ? I think it quite as well that you should not
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 195 
 
 return to England until you do so finally to begin your 
 apprenticeship to some business — I don't mean trade, 
 unless you like it, nor do I suppose that you much desire 
 to come home at present. One of the nicest arrangements 
 would be for Mama and Willie to go to some pleasant 
 Norman or Biscayan sea-coast and welcome you there, and 
 I could take you back to Berne. Tell me what your views 
 are. — Perhaps if you are found to be getting too old 
 for Dr. Miiller's school, you might remove to Dresden. 
 Spain and Spanish, I fear, would be of no use to you in 
 the future. How much I long to meet you ! Keep pure 
 in mind, unselfish of heart, and diligent in study. This 
 is the right way of worshipping God, and is better than 
 hymns and sermons and incense. We find it doubtful 
 whether God blesses the latter, but cultivate the former, 
 and you are sure of Him. Heed me well when I say this. 
 And may God forever bless you, I pray it nightly. 
 
 To Captain Maxse, 
 
 MiCKLEHAM, Feb. 17, 1868. 
 
 Our old friend ! It chokes me to think that we have 
 lost him. I have PurceU's ^ dear old wind-blown brown 
 gleam of a face, the manner of him, the voice and walk, 
 more firmly stamped in my mind than most living men 
 are. He comes up to meet me now — I see him dashed 
 with spray — parrying a thrust from me — I can't beheve 
 he 's gone. His voice is alive in my ears. Only, I know 
 that when I come to Holly Hill I shall feel the truth sadly 
 enough. Poor, dear old man ! This will change Summer 
 and the yacht to you and your wife. He was so true a 
 gentleman, with a pardonable old dog's growl now and 
 then — after all, very rarely. I reproach myself that I 
 should have let him ever sink a trifle in my esteem. And 
 
 * Parcoll, skipper of Capbaia Maxso's yacht.
 
 196 LETTERS OF GEORGE IVIEREDITH 
 
 I am always on my guard against the influence of these 
 sectional impressions, and try so much to get and keep 
 possession of a man's character, so that I may never fall 
 into these silly errors. It seems to me that the old man 
 has gone carrying my debt to him away for good. The 
 Uttle history revealed to you by his death is wretched. — 
 What will be done for the children ? That 's the most 
 lamentable thought of all. 
 
 Marie is in grief for the loss of Purcell. He belonged to 
 our early marriage days. On my soul I think I shall 
 never smell salt water or look on a grey ridge of sea or 
 sea haze without thinking of him. 
 
 The typhus probably followed gastric fever, which one 
 gets from fretting ; it speedily sends us on. 
 
 Alas ! my dear Fred, I didn't expect sad news from 
 you. 
 
 Our Willie Maxse will be three years old in July. 
 
 Then let me have Ben.^ I dehght (so does Marie) to 
 think of him coming. But I 'm bothered, I 'U write 
 about him to-morrow. — Your loving 
 
 Geoege Meredith. 
 
 To F J 5. 
 
 Box Hnx, 
 Nov., Lord Guy of London Day. 
 
 Friend J , — It being the fashionable Season in 
 
 Brighton at Brighton you are, of course. Now, your 
 way back to Kingston lies exactly by Box Hill. Will 
 you take us en route ? Do ! I have not seen you for so 
 long that on my honour I could listen to your puns with 
 pleasure : and who could say more ? We have been 
 most unfortunate during the summer, with first the 
 soaking, till the Inns were fuU right on to October. But 
 p,t present Inns gape, and we can get one room for you 
 
 ^ A rod rotricver dog.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 197 
 
 at the Burford or Beehive. If you are for companionship 
 
 with me, J , you wiU come. Write by return, and 
 
 arrange. Bring all with you. If it rain, we '11 draw the 
 blinds, let fly the corks, and dance. If it 's fair, I 'U sweat 
 you gently over the hills and home to our tobacco Parlia- 
 ment. I can't say fairer. — I would send my love to 
 
 Mrs. J , but fear your tarnishing it in the transmission. 
 
 But I kiss my hand to the heavens : and let her only 
 look on your head, and she will see the act reflected. — 
 Your friendUest George Meredith. 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 aiiCKLEHAM, Dec. 19, 1869. 
 
 My dear Fred, — Morison will take notice of your 
 pamphlet : he says he cannot do so more than inciden- 
 tally, as he would have done if you had written a book. 
 . . . Greenwood has been (as one can conceive possible) 
 too busy to read anything. — The ' Holy Grail ' is wonder- 
 ful, isn't it ? The lines are satin lengths, the figures Sevres 
 china. I have not the courage to offer to review it, I 
 should say such things. To think ! — it 's in these days 
 that the foremost poet of the country goes on fluting of 
 creatures that have not a breath of vital humanity in 
 them, and doles us out his regular flve-feet with the 
 old trick of the vowel endings — The Euphuist's tongue, 
 the Exquisite's leg, the Curate's moral sentiments, the 
 British matron and her daughter's purity of tone : — so 
 he talks, so he walks, so he snuffles, so he appears divine. 
 — ^I repeat with my Grannam, — to think ! — and to hear 
 the chorus of praise too ! Why, this stuff is not the 
 Muse, it 's Musery. The man has got hold of the Muses' 
 clothes-line and hung it with jewehy. 
 
 But the ' Lucretius ' is grand. I can't say how much 
 I admire it and hate the Sir Pandarus public which has
 
 198 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 corrupted this fine (natural) singer. In his degraded 
 state I really believe he is useful, for he reflects as much 
 as our Society chooses to show of itself. The Enghsh 
 notion of passion, virtue, valour, is in his pages : and 
 the air and the dress we assume are seen there. — I turn 
 to Rabelais and Montaigne with relief. See what a 
 gentleman Boccaccio is in his narration ! and always 
 manly, always fresh. — Do you care to find the Holy Grail, 
 Fred ? Twenty years ago it would have excited me. 
 This your foremost Poet is twenty years behind his 
 time. Of course I expect a contrary opinion from you. 
 But answer me — isn't there a scent of damned hypocrisy 
 in all this lisping and vowelled purity of the Idylls ? 
 Well ! just as you hke. It 's fashionable ; it pleases 
 the rose-pink ladies, it sells. Enough. — I am your loving 
 
 George M. 
 
 I spoke strongly to Greenwood of Bradlaugh ; im- 
 pressed him, I trust. 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 Box Hill, Dec. 27, 1869. 
 
 My dear Fred, — I return Ruskin's letter, a character- 
 istic one. I am chiefly glad that you should be in corre- 
 spondence with a man who will appreciate and stimulate 
 you ; glad too that you seem to see where he falls short, 
 or, rather, aims blindly. It is the spirituality of Carlyle 
 that charms him. What he says of Tennyson I too 
 thought in my boy's days, that is, before I began to think. 
 Tennyson has many spiritual indications, but no philo- 
 sophy, and philosophy is the palace of thought. Mill is 
 essentially a critic : it is his heart, not his mind, which 
 sends him feeling ahead. But he really does not touch 
 the soul and springs of the Universe as Carlyle does. 
 Only, when the latter attempts practical dealings he is
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 199 
 
 irritable as a woman, impetuous as a tyrant. He seeks 
 the short road to his ends ; and the short road is, we 
 know, a bloody one. He is not wise ; Mill is ; but 
 Carlyle has most hght when he burns calmly. Much of 
 Ruskin's Political Economy will, I suspect, be stamped as 
 good by posterity. He brings humanity into it. This 
 therefore is not the Political Economy of our day. — I 
 have turned Wendell Phillips like a drenching fireman's 
 hose on a parson, and made him sputter and gutter 
 and go to his wife to trim his wick. The Oration is 
 very noble. Adieu. Write some day next year. — Your 
 loving George Meredith. 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 MiCKLEHAM, 1869. 
 
 My dear Ered, — . . . Will is in the garden on a 
 rocking-horse, new gift from his Aunt. His seat is as 
 Cardigan's entering Balaclava guns, — Of course you 've 
 read Kinglake, very deliberate, very conscientious. 
 He has done all the work of the History of the Grim. War 
 except to write it. His writing is so fine — so fine (in 
 both senses) that to say it is penmanship seems best to 
 express it. — One sees the whole Balaclava business, as 
 he saw it (and you) from the heights, through Klinglake's 
 slowly -moving, dioramic opera -glass, with the fifty 
 degree magnifying power of patient imagination, full 
 study and testimony, superadded. It deserves praise 
 and thanks. Contemporaneous history should thus be 
 wi'itten : but it is not an artistic piece of history. How 
 glorious Scarlett at the head of his 300 Greys and Innis- 
 killens ! Yet one can't help feeling that Kinglake makes 
 them go astonishingly like the horsemen in a peepshow. 
 Scarlett enters : — pause ; now Shegogg : — pause ; Aide 
 de camp : — pause : now the Greys, presently the Innis-
 
 200 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 killens : — So on. Very good, very bad. Adieu. — ^Your 
 loving George Meredith. 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 MiCKLEHAM, Jan. 2, 1870. 
 
 My dear Fred, — It 's difficult to speak mildly of a 
 man who calls John IVIill blockhead, and dares to assume 
 Carlyle's mantle of Infallibility on the plea that it is his 
 ' master's.' Still I agree with much that he says of 
 Carlyle. I hold that he is the nearest to being an inspired 
 writer of any man in our times ; he does proclaim in- 
 violable law : he speaks from the deep springs of Hfe. 
 All this. But when he descends to our common pave- 
 ment, when he would apply his eminent spiritual wisdom 
 to the course of legislation, he is no more sagacious nor 
 useful nor temperate than a flash of lightning in a grocer's 
 shop. ' I purify the atmosphere,' says this agent. ' You 
 knock me down, spoil my goods and frighten my family,' 
 says the grocer. — Philosophy, while rendering his dues to 
 a man like Carlyle and acloiowledging itself inferior in 
 activity, despises his hideous blustering impatience in 
 the presence of progressive facts. 
 
 Read the ' French Revolution ' and you listen to a seer : 
 the recent pamphlets, and he is a drunken country squire 
 of superordinary ability. 
 
 Carl5'le preaches work for all to all. Good. But his 
 method of applying his sermon to his ' nigger ' is intoler- 
 able. — Spiritual hght he has to illuminate a nation. Of 
 practical little or none, and he beats his own brains out 
 with emphasis. 
 
 As to what R. says of John Mill I have not the Pol. Ec. 
 handy. I am inclined to think the present generation 
 of P. Economists wrong — that they don't see that the 
 obligations of Wealth pertain to its sources, and that
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 201 
 
 R. has some vague truth for a backbone to his prepos- 
 terous priestly attitude and inebriate conceit as against 
 adversaries. 
 
 The Parsonry are irritating me fearfully, but a non- 
 celibate clergy are a terrific power. They are interwound 
 with the whole of the Middle class like the poisonous 
 ivy. Oh ! for independence, that I might write my mind 
 of these sappers of our strength. — Your loving 
 
 George M. 
 
 To John Morley.'^ 
 
 IVIiCKLEHAM, Jan. 2, 1870. 
 
 My dear Morley, — ^Very glad to hear from you — I 
 called on Morison. He told me of your passage to 
 Glasgow and lecture on Condorcet, a capital subject 
 for a philosopher. I shall read it in the ' Fortnightly.' — 
 Some fear struck me that you would not find things well 
 at Lytham. 
 
 I should have written to ask leave to review Tennyson's 
 Arthurian Cycles ; but I could not summon heart even 
 to get the opening for speaking my mind on it. — I can 
 hardly say I think he deserves well of us ; he is a real 
 singer, and he sings this mild fluency to this great length. 
 Malory's Morte Arthur is preferable. Fancy one affect- 
 ing the great poet and giving himself up (in our days ! — 
 he must have lost the key of them) to such dandiacal 
 fluting. — Yet there was stuff here for a poet of genius to 
 
 » Now Viscount Morley of Blackburn, P.C, O.M., F.R.S. Till the 
 end of his life Lord Morley's books as they appeared were read, 
 criticised, and appreciated by Meredith. A short list of them is 
 appended for convenient reference; Edmund Burke (1807), Critical 
 Miscellanies (1871), Voltaire (\%1\). Rousseau (\^1Z), On Compromiae 
 (1874), Diderot and the Encyclopaedists (1878), Burke (1879), Richard 
 Cobden (1881), Oliver Cromwell (1900). Life of Gladstone (1903). Lord 
 Morley edited the Fortnightly Re^^iew (1867-83), the Pall Mall OazeUe 
 (1880-83), and Macmillan'B Magazine (1883-85).
 
 202 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 animate the figures and make them reflect us, and on us. 
 I read the successive mannered Hnes with pain — yards 
 of linen — drapery for the delight of ladies who would 
 be in the fashion. — The praises of the book shut me away 
 from my fellows. To be sure, there 's the magnificent 
 * Lucretius.' 
 
 Fred Maxse has been corresponding with Ruskin. — 
 Anon, anon. I am not at liberty to write of the latter's 
 monstrous assumption of wisdom. 
 
 Ah ! the Hindhead and a Southwester on it in March 
 or April ! — Yes ! and then to Florence. 
 
 Let me hear when you are in London. I shall not be 
 up till about the 11th or 12th. We will dine at the 
 Garrick, an you please. Good luck speed the * Pall Mall.' 
 — I rejoice to hear that your head is teeming. Did I 
 tell you that Fred and I went to sit under Bradlaugh one 
 evening ? The man is neither to be laughed nor sneered 
 down, nor trampled. He will be a powerful speaker. 
 I did my best to make Greenwood understand that. It 
 was really pleasant to hear those things spoken which 
 the parsonry provoke. Here, at a party where our 
 Willie entertained company of his own age, the hostess 
 feared to see the children standing in a ring because 
 (she said — and she is by way of being independent) the 
 
 little (parson's children — he begets annually — the 
 
 children die decennially — and he is ' chastened ' but 
 
 sees no natural curse — !) the little • might thinli it 
 
 was meant for dancing ! 
 
 To John Morley. 
 
 Box Hill, Jan. 13, 1870. 
 
 My dear friend M., — You will write and let me know 
 if there is anything I can do for you. My hands are 
 altogether at your service.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 203 
 
 A copy of H. Rochefort's Marseillaise may interest you ; 
 it is the Republican (Red) shriek (the Irish word escapes 
 me) over Victor Noir.i n 'g g, good study of the French 
 period. — Well, after reading it and repressing my gorge 
 at this undignified fury and savage friendship, I turned 
 to a leading article in the ' Morning Post ' in which the 
 assassinated youngster is supremely sneered at as a 
 linendraper's apprentice who caught an appetite for 
 literature from the ' Petit Journal.' (It seems that no less 
 a man than Weiss had some hopes of him). On the 
 whole, I was, critically speaking, most disgusted with 
 our high-noted friend. 
 
 This number of the ' Fortnightly ' is excellent : your 
 Condorcet to my mind an example of your best judicial 
 style, minus the judicial excess of precision (occasionally 
 as from an old maid to an errand boy — so hke !). These 
 studies which you put into so noble a shape and impreg- 
 nate with your full mind, will help to bear good fruit in 
 all directions. Meanwhile they are fine reading. Take 
 to history. Preserve this style in historical narrative, 
 and your name will not take a second rank. My dear 
 M. ! I don't know how it may be with you. I trust that 
 you may have all your strength about you. If it ever 
 comforts you to think of my affection, be sure that you 
 have it. — Yours, George Meredith. 
 
 To John Morley. 
 
 MiCKLEHAM, Dorking, Jan. 27, 1870. 
 
 My dearest M., — ^The drama of a household burnt 
 out under my eye here, has given me some excitement. 
 Irish Mr. Sewell, six feet five, liaired like Erebus, brawny 
 as Vulcan's first forgeman, with a sniffling English wife, 
 whose shawl is, like her nose, always thawing off her 
 
 * KUlod by Prince Piorra Bonaparte at Auteuil, Jan. 10, 1870.
 
 204 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 shoulder, and a family of four, a good honest lot for that 
 matter, lived in a hut in the comer of a field abutting 
 on our acres, to watch potatoes grow. Sewell was away 
 at work, his wife sniffling somewhere, when out flaps the 
 big girl with a whinny. Fire ! Fire ! — and I giving a touch 
 to ' Richmond.' I was soon in a gentle rain of thatch. 
 The girl tumbled, and I assure you I saw the vision of 
 Danae in a jiffy. She Uved (like woman's virtue) under 
 a thatched roof. I saved the nuptial bed of these rash 
 and unwearied propagators ; my gardener arriving later 
 attached himself to the pigs. There would have been, 
 as I told him later, a chance of roast pig — ! I repeated 
 Charles Lamb's story to him. He is without imagination 
 and ' hoped I was joking.' 
 
 . . . I 'm afraid the * Pall Mall ' can't be doing well, 
 though when I went to Greenwood he insisted on the 
 cheerfulness of its condition. — All speak with regret of 
 t and of what they hear of it. — The tone — eh ? of the 
 leaders doesn't seem to me so good, though it 's above 
 the newspaper type. You see they have dealt with 
 Bradlaugh. I spoke to Greenwood about him, insisting 
 that he was a man of power, and was not to be sneered 
 down ; and that on the whole he said certain things 
 comforting to hear by one suffering from Simon Peter. — 
 As to ' Harry Richmond,' I fear I am evolving his per- 
 sonality too closely for the public, but a man must work 
 by the light of his conscience if he 's to do anything 
 worth reading. — I see the * Quarterly ' deals rather firmly 
 with the ' Holy Grail ' — something in these days. It is 
 hard on the ' Lucretius ' — compares the flow of the English 
 lines with the Latin Hexameters of the poet. No one 
 but Milton has the roll of the English line. The French 
 Alexandrine, which I have been studying of late, is 
 (though far off) nearer to ancient poetical music than 
 anything we have out of Milton. When I have leisure
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 205 
 
 I hope to write some papers on poetry and versification. 
 — I hear good things said of your Condorcet, and am con- 
 vinced you are getting the right historical tone. Young 
 Trollope complains that you employ hyphens too largely. 
 I quote the criticism pour votre gouverne. Now good- 
 night, my dear friend ; I do but chat to amuse you, if 
 things permit of it. Doubtless you have your eye on 
 the news, and I need not discuss pohtics. Adieu. 
 
 To John Morley. 
 
 Box Hill, March 5, 1870. 
 
 My dearest M., — We are both with you in heart. 
 When your heart is bowed to the black metal gates, words 
 of the best of friends can be but poorly helpful ; but 
 think of us and our love for you when you look up and 
 around you once again. — I had this shock when I was 
 a httle boy, and merely wondered. . . . — Your affectionate 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To William Hardinan. 
 
 Box Hill, June 15, 1870. 
 
 Dearest T., — It must have been as you say. I was 
 thinking of twenty. I send now cheque dated 24th (which 
 is a liberty on my part). The truth is, I have sent in my 
 work, and am waiting for payment, which I don't want 
 to press for ; and it is just possible I may have to ask 
 you to hold on till the end of the month, when I come 
 upon other resources sufficient for the time. You can 
 either retain the old cheque, or tell me it is torn up. 
 
 Next week we are engaged up to (save Tuesday) 
 Saturday morning. Remember too that the dry days 
 are going. This next Saturday we dine out, Friday is 
 my town day, Monday also. What do you say to 
 Tuesday ? On Wednesday and Thursday we are at
 
 206 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 Effingham Hill. I mean, if you are at home, to be in- 
 vited to you, solus, in early July — when you haven't 
 trumpets in your gardens and are not entertaining the 
 wealth and beauty of the district. You will see Poco. 
 
 Dickens gone ! The ' Spectator ' says he beat Shake- 
 speare at his best, and instances IMrs. Gamp as superior 
 to Juliet's nurse. This in a critical newspaper ! 
 
 My love to all at home, and hope that they will be 
 footing our brown hill soon. — Your loving 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 Box Hill, Juhj 6, 1870. 
 
 Sweet Justice of Norbiton, neighbour of Jones, 
 
 Have you paid in the £15 cheque ? 
 The account at my banker's has recently grown 
 
 As fat as the 
 
 But 'tis sweating already, it dwindles apace : 
 So I pray you (and here 's to your luck) 
 
 Don't give to the matter a minute more grace, 
 And adieu, Serenissimo Tuck ! 
 
 Halloa ! you are off to the Isle of Wight ? Do you 
 remember the ' race ' off Sandown ? Perhaps I may run - 
 down for two or three days. — Thus our affairs : Marie 
 waits to let her house, when she will convoy Wilkins 
 to Nonancourt. I remain working somewhere for three 
 weeks, pouncing on friends ; then I go to fetch her back. 
 We return in September. Arturus has received an in- 
 vitation from Marie's sister to go to Joubasseau in 
 Dauphine for his holidays (Basle, Geneva, Chambery), 
 so he will be comfortable. I shan't be able to meet him. 
 I wish you could see some of the letters he has written 
 lately. They speak promisingly. 
 
 My novel * Harry Richmond ' is out of my hands and
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 207 
 
 appears in the Cornhill the 1st October. By that time 
 I hope to have another ready. 
 
 Wilkins in very fine condition. Ourself middhng — in 
 want of outing. Marie well. I hope the illustrious Editor 
 of * Punch ' has got round again and rounder. Adieu 
 to you all. — Your loving George Meredith. 
 
 The last of dear old St. Bernard was that he was down 
 on his back. We are off for a couple of days to Lady 
 Caroline Maxse's, Effingham Hill. She has taken to 
 Marie. 
 
 To Arthur G. Meredith. 
 
 England, Box Hill, July 14, 1870. 
 
 My dear Arthur, — Write to Madame Poussielque ^ 
 when you know the day Professor Zeller starts, and go 
 yourself that day. The later, the better, for your Aunt 
 Betty does not leave here till the first days of August, 
 and I should Hke you to see her, and to have her report 
 of your condition. Besides she is charming society. 
 Do not fail at one time or other of your visit to make the 
 expedition to the Grande Chartreuse. I am sure it will 
 delight you. Whatever money you may be in need of 
 you shall have. Send me (clearly wi'itten) a detail of 
 the value of your florins in francs, and how much the 
 journey to Joubasseau costs you. When there, use what 
 money you have remaining for pocket-money, and more 
 shall be forwarded to you, according to the necessity of 
 the case. I wish you to be careful, but to feel tolerably 
 independent, and in all things to enjoy your holiday. 
 
 It has looked recently as if we should have war between 
 Prance and Prussia, and I fear it must come on ; but 
 I think not immediately. When men's brains are in- 
 
 ^ The olde?t ^lis^ VuUiamy had married Commandant Poussiolquo, 
 of Pont de Beau Voisin, Savoy.
 
 208 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 sufficient to meet the exigencies of affairs, they fight. 
 If the war should burst out, I shall be grieved, for I Uke 
 France, and yet see the good for Europe of having a strong 
 central State composed of a sohd people. There is no 
 need at present to consider the course that you should 
 take in the event of war encircling little Wiirtemberg. 
 You will like the Commandant (equal in military rank 
 to our major) very much. He has seen a great deal of 
 campaigning both in the Crimea and in Algeria. He is 
 a Frenchman of the best kind. You will not find him an 
 admirer of Prussia, but keep your judgment in balance 
 on all questions upon which you have no personal ex- 
 perience, and have had no opportunities for reflection. . . . 
 I have passed Chambery and been at Grenoble. All the 
 Dauphine country is beautiful, so you are sure to be 
 pleased. I trust with all my heart you will be happy, 
 and am your loving father, George Meredith. 
 
 To John 31orley. 
 
 Box Hill, July 21, 1870. 
 
 My dear Morley, — . . . What news ! — this of Prevost 
 Paradol ! ^ Why talk of the horrors of war when we are 
 fronting artillery at every second of our lives. — My * Pall 
 Mall ' comes to me this morning with the most ludicrous 
 blunder about a name of a place ever printed. Forbach 
 is treated of as being in the Black Forest (where there is a 
 little village of the name), and the ' Pall MaU ' speculates 
 upon why hostihties should have commenced there ! — 
 Our friend can afford such errors less than any other 
 journal. — On the whole, I side with France, or so incline. 
 The instinct of the people in seizing an opportunity to 
 
 ^ Lucion Anatolo Prtwost Paradol, journalist and litterateur, member 
 of French Academy (1865), was born in Paris, August 8, 1829. In 1870 
 he was appointed Minister Plenipotentiary to the United States of 
 America, but had scarce arrived in Washinpton when his position 
 became so difficult that, losing heart, ho killed himself.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 209 
 
 dispute the aggrandisement of Prussia is right : it is 
 not a Vanity war nor a King's, but a people's war — war 
 of Germans and Frenchmen ; a trial of actual strength 
 for supremacy : and it was nonsense to think of post- 
 poning it, ruinous to delay. — The tone of our Press is 
 sickening. — No correspondents allowed, so my chance is 
 gone. 
 
 To John Morley. 
 
 Box Hill, 1870. 
 
 My dear M., — I found the boy still troubled yesterday, 
 and to-day the doctor says he will have to rest for two 
 or three days : meanwhile he goes on well. Very doubt- 
 ful whether Marie will be able to bring him over this 
 week. The next I must give to Fred Maxse. After- 
 wards, you willing, we may come. That is, if I am on 
 the spot. It 's possible that I may start to French 
 quarters for Borthwick. — If you hke I will run to you on 
 Thursday. This war agitates me ; gazing on an old tree, 
 or talking with you, are my febrifuges. I have just had 
 the Book of Orm ^ sent to me from the author. It may 
 be a setthng, it 's not a composing draught. The news- 
 papers are mere chips of dry biscuit to my devouring 
 appetite for telegrams and details. Yesterday and to-day, 
 thank heaven, they haven't (I don't see the ' Times ') ser- 
 monized. England hasn't screamed and scolded and 
 clacked and nodded her cap, and sniffled to her clergyman 
 for comfort. — I wrote some verse to you this morning, 
 but as it isn't finished can't send it. Taste the beginning, 
 perhaps never to end — never to have tail — like scorned 
 pigs. 
 
 ' Friend, when the thundercloud is low, 
 And in the expectancy and throe. 
 Field, hill, and wave of forest grow 
 The hue that edges black on fair, 
 ^ The Book of Orm, by Robert Buchanan. 
 VOL. I. —
 
 210 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 No voice is heard, and not a sound, 
 Though Hsten all the hollow ground ; 
 But swift I have known a white dove thread the air. 
 
 So now these lines to you, between 
 The loaded darkness and dead green,' 
 
 Etc., etc. no more space. 
 
 May our hearts be stout, and we prove our begetting 
 honest ! — Ever yours, George M. 
 
 To John Morley. 
 
 Box Hill, July 25, 1870. 
 
 My dearest M., — . . . I am glad you like the verses. 
 The next batch you will find plunge deeper. Mind, I 
 swore them as to you, and you (though you blinked at 
 the time, as much as to tell me I w^as intimidating you) 
 consented to take them. — I am in poor mood for writing : 
 an attack of stomach keeps me singular in ideas, and, 
 like the contemplative dervish, with a fixed eye on the 
 centre of my being, whence does not issue song at present. 
 
 The war of '70 is direct issue of '66. Just as we abused 
 the Prussians then we howl at the French now, but the 
 tremendous armaments on both sides were meant for this 
 duel, and it mattered very little what was the pretext for 
 the outbreak. Surely it 's a case of Arcades Ambo. The 
 French felt themselves perpetually menaced by distended 
 Prussia, irritated by her tone, even alarmed by the 
 rumour and dread of projects the existence of which her 
 antecedents might seem to warrant. At any rate it was 
 a fight to come on ; and here we have it ; and if we are 
 energetic and wise it may be the last of the great fights 
 of Europe. The two foremost States in war and intellect 
 may well be committed to cut the bloody tangle. I feel 
 deeply for the Germans ; I quite understand the ardour 
 of the French. I think their cause, from their point of
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 211 
 
 view, thoroughly good, and not hkely to succeed. Armies 
 can't do it : they can't check the tide of a great nation. 
 As to the Emperor, lie appears to have thought the season 
 for a trial of the new breech-loader field-pieces and 
 JVIitrailleuse had come, just as Bismarck could not afiEord 
 to delay in trying his needle-gun on the Austrians. The 
 Emperor had note of warning that his routed Prussians 
 were also busy perfecting mysterious instruments. Poor 
 devilry ! All devilry is poor in the contemplation. 
 But it is still the chief engine of history. You and I are 
 forced into our channels by it. Friend, in the woods, 
 you and I may challenge the world to match us in happi- 
 ness. Out of them I feel myself pulled back a century 
 or so. — And into a splash of shuddering matter. 
 
 By the way, you must remember that the Emperor did 
 not make the grief against Prussia. It came to his 
 hand. It was deep in the French heart. I turn to the 
 ' Book of Orm ' and find a refrain — • 
 
 ' Grow, Seed, blossom. Brain, 
 Deepen, deepen, into pain.' 
 
 Title of piece ' The Devil's Mystics.' There ! 
 Again — 
 
 * God feared the thing He fashioned 
 And fled into a cloud ! ' 
 
 Public of Britain ! Here he is — ^your poet ! 
 
 ' Since that day, with cloudy face, 
 Of His own handiwork afraid, 
 God from His Heavenly hiding-place 
 Peered at the thing He made.' 
 
 Aha ! If He made Bismarck and Napoleon according 
 to the view of the Stock Exchange, the British Spinster, 
 Clericus and Press (siding for once with their betters), 
 then no wonder ! — I would not mind our language if it
 
 212 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 came from an unselfish people : but a people notoriously 
 craving peace for comfort's sake, and commerce's — they 
 do but scold, they provoke contempt. — I regret bitterly 
 that I am not out on a post of observation. I may still 
 go for a month. — Your loving George Meredith. 
 
 To Arthur G. Meredith. 
 
 Box Hill, Dorking, 
 England, Oct. 25, 1870. 
 
 My dear Arthur, — ... I am not very rich at 
 present, but I don't want you to be without pocket- 
 money and minor comforts. — See that you have warm 
 clothing for the winter — all that is really needful I gladly 
 pay for. I leave it to your good sense to take measures 
 to avoid chills, and to take daily reasonable exercise, 
 and not to walk to excess. Your gastric attack last year 
 will serve for a warning. Don't ever sit in clothes you 
 have sweated in : the trouble of going upstairs and 
 ' grooming ' yourself saves trouble, and worse, in the 
 end. Fellows who contract illnesses are usually guilty 
 (I don't say always) of indolence — carelessness is only 
 one form of indolence. — ^You will note that I lay stress 
 on the physical condition. I do so for the reason that 
 it is the index to the moral condition in young men. It 
 is ten to one that a healthy lad is of good general worth. 
 If not physically healthy he will not be of much value. 
 The day comes when we are put to the test, and it is for 
 this day we should prepare with cheerful heart. Don't 
 imagine me to be lecturing you. I have favourable re- 
 ports of you, and I merely repeat simple words of advice 
 that it will be well for you to keep in mind. — Tell Pro- 
 fessor Zeller, with my compliments, that if there is a fund 
 for the wounded soldiers in Stuttgart, I shall be glad if 
 he will put my name down for the subscription of £1,
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 213 
 
 which he can charge to the next account. I cannot 
 afford more just now. The French peasantry around 
 Sedan claim everything of us that we can give. They 
 are barely held up in hfe by the bread we are able to fur- 
 nish ; and a third of France will be demanding succour 
 in the winter. Horrible to think of ! — But do not let 
 compassion or personal sympathy make your judgment 
 swerve. This war is chargeable upon France, and the 
 Emperor is the Ivnave of the pack. Two generations of 
 Frenchmen have been reared on the traditions of Napoleon- 
 ism, and these meant the infliction of wrongs and out- 
 rages on other nations for the glory and increase of their 
 own. They elected a Napoleon for chief because of his 
 name, and in spite of his known character. It is said, the 
 French peasantry did not want war ; that their ignorance 
 offended in electing this man ; but who can deny that it 
 was the Napoleonic prestige which gave him his first step 
 to the throne b}^ overwhelming votes ? This man was the 
 expression of their ignorance, or folly, or vanity ; he 
 appealed to the Napoleonism in them, and had a prompt 
 response. A more ignoble spectacle than the recrimina- 
 tions of Emperor and people upon one another as to the 
 origin of the war, after defeat, history does not show. 
 The Germans, on the contrary, reap the reward of a per- 
 sistently honourable career in civic virtue. Consider 
 what the meaning of civic virtue may be. It comprises 
 a multitude of other virtues. As to German boasting, 
 why the English also are great boasters. See the best 
 in those about you. I say this, and I admire and respect 
 the Germans, and God knows my heart bleeds for the 
 French. But my aim, and I trust it will be yours, is never 
 to take counsel of my sensations, but of my intelhgence. 
 I let the former have free play, but deny them the right 
 to bring me to a decision. You are younger, have a 
 harder task in doing that ; you have indeed a task in
 
 214 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 discerning the difference between what your senses suggest 
 and what your mind. However, try not to be let into 
 some degree of injustice to your host, the German people, 
 out of pity for France. — We had a capital time at East- 
 bourne, good bathing, Willie paddling up to his knees in 
 salt water half the day. Now we have the autumnal 
 gales and Box Hill looking on the last colours of the year. 
 I saw your Grandpapa Meredith on my way to Captain 
 Maxse's ; he had been unwell, but was better ; he asked 
 after you and so did Mrs. M. They were anxious as to 
 your situation in the territory of war. Captain Maxse 
 is out and out French ; ]\Ir. Morison intensely German ; 
 ISIr. Morley and I do our utmost to preserve an even 
 balance. There is talk of an armistice, but Paris must 
 fall before the French will seriously treat for peace. 
 Count Bismarck gives audience to-day to that deleterious 
 little Frenchman Thiers, who has been poisoning his 
 countrymen for half a century, and now runs from Court 
 to Court, from minister to minister, to get help to undo 
 his own direct work. Count Bismarck will be amused, 
 for he has a keen appreciation of comedy. Philosophers 
 would laugh aloud at the exhibition of the author of the 
 ' Consulate and the Empire ' in the camp at Versailles. 
 Modern France has been nourished on this lying book. — 
 Here in Mickleham we are naturally anxious about the 
 Nonancourt ^ people. The latest telegrams say that the 
 Germans are moving on Dreux — no great distance from 
 the colony. You can fancy how sad the Old House looks 
 now the good old man has gone.^ — God bless you, my dear 
 boy. If you have anything to narrate of the war, the 
 wounded, the prisoners, etc., it might be useful to me. 
 Train your eyes to observe, and while they are at that 
 
 ^ At Nonancourt, in Normandy, on tho Avre, Mrs. Meredith's three 
 brothers livod and owned wool-Ppinning mills — close neighbours of tho 
 VVnddinglon family, owning cotton milln on tlie same river. 
 
 * The death of Mr. Justin Vulliamy.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 215 
 
 work keep the action of your mind in abeyance. Young 
 eyes can observe shrewdly, but the opinions of young men 
 are not quite so important. — I am your loving father, 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 21 Cavendish Place, 
 Eastbouene, Sussex. 
 
 My dearest Tuck, — Motives of Economy decided us 
 to come here, much to my regret. We were at Tongswood 
 at the Cotterills', and it was cheap to run to the Sussex, 
 near to the Isle of Wight, coast. But you ! had you 
 written to Holly Hill you would have fetched me over to 
 Sandown, and I should have fixed the bargain with a 
 lodgement-letter. I remained for a fortnight atMaxse's 
 yachting when the gales permitted it. Then joined Marie 
 at Tongswood, good air, good hostess and host. East- 
 bourne is on the whole pleasant. This salt-water fetches 
 me round. Tuck. It is the next best to mountain air. 
 
 Marie and I thanked you for your thorough kind letter. 
 I knew how you would both feel on hearing of the dear 
 good old man's death. A just man, not lost for ever 
 to his family, for the example of such a man is a constant 
 presence. But a dead loss to the poor. 
 
 So you do both care for ' H. Richmond.' i I hoped it. 
 I wish some one like Shirley Brooks would let it be known 
 it 's mine. Lethbridge tells me he has seen it attributed 
 to Lever ! A word from you, Tuck, in the august Ear of 
 Punch, anon, anon, sir. Mind and tell me how you like 
 it as you go on. I shall have another to follow when 
 ' Richmond ' ceases, and so by drumming may make the 
 public hear me at least. — Oh this war. I burst with pity 
 for the French, but can't say they have not deserved 
 defeat. Was ever a nation so shattered ? In nothing 
 
 * The Adventures of Harry Richmond, then appearing in the CornhiU 
 Magazine.
 
 216 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 have they done well, since Napoleon gave the wink to 
 Gramont to roar in the Chamber. 
 
 My love to you all with the children. Kisses to you 
 and them from Willie Godson. You should see him in his 
 paddle-boots in the low-tide pools. 
 
 Tuck, you did not reply to my letter because you were 
 working for Lee Steere and Baggallay ! Marie will write 
 to D'Troia on her return to Box. She did not at once 
 owing to hesitation as to the course to take, which ulti- 
 mately Economy, our damned old friend, decided for us, 
 and not badly, except for the loss of you two and a certain 
 particular quality (I fancy it) haunting your district. 
 
 Have I made it plain to you that the feelingness of your 
 letter to Mickleham was much felt there ? I 've no more 
 space, Tuck, dear heart. I could chatter to you like a 
 summer brook. Adieu. Imagine me talking on as I 
 do from hour to hour. — ^Your loving 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To Arthur G. Meredith, 
 
 Box Hell, Dorking, 
 England, Dec. 23, 1870. 
 
 My dearest Arthur, — I hope you will get this letter 
 on the morning of Christmas Day to greet yon and wish 
 you happiness, strength, and fortune, which results from 
 the two former gifts. — There will be money for you. 
 Meantime if you are in want of funds, you can apply to 
 the Professor for assistance with my sanction. I know 
 I can rely on you to be moderate, and you in turn will feel 
 that I desire you to have sufficient for your needs. Sup- 
 posing you should go to Heidelberg for a few days you must 
 have the wherewithal. Be careful to be warmly clad. 
 And when on a tour have a care of your tongue and your 
 company. The Professor says you do not consort with 
 Germans at all. I am grieved at this. I am sure you
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 217 
 
 do not altogether underrate the fine qualities of German 
 youth ; but perhaps your immediate sympathies, and a 
 somewhat exaggerated sensitiveness, stand in your way. 
 It will be a pity, if this is so, and for more reasons than 
 one. If you do not cultivate the people you are living 
 amongst in your youth, you will fail in having pleasant 
 places to look back on — landmarks of your young days. 
 And besides, the Germans are your hosts, and you owe 
 them at least a guest's thankfulness. I esteem them 
 deeply for their fine moral qualities. Just now they are 
 abusing us roundly, but that will pass away. I know 
 they have the capacity for friendship, and that as a rule 
 English friendships are not so lasting. Look around you, 
 and try to be accessible to your German associates. 
 Consider whether you are not yielding to luxurious pre- 
 dispositions in your marked preference for English ones. 
 You will see enough of the latter when you return here. — 
 I have had a letter from Mr. Jessopp, in which he sug- 
 gests that you might when you come back go to Oxford 
 and try for the Taylour Scholarship in modern languages. 
 Your knowledge of German might give you a chance. 
 Are you sure that you are thoroughly grounded in German 
 to stand a sharp competitive examination ? — that is, to 
 write good scholarly German prose ; and perhaps trans- 
 late into German verse. Set to your mind this task. 
 Let me hear what you think of it. By winning the 
 Scholarship you might be on your way to a fellowship. 
 I will do my best to support you ; that you may be sure 
 of. But you will have to fall to work rigorously. Of 
 course I hke you to indulge in composition, but now is 
 the time to store facts, to sharpen your weapon, to make 
 yourself capable by serving your apprenticeship. This 
 is what the Germans do — they serve their apprenticeship 
 thoroughly ; and as they are not critics before their time, 
 they are competent critics when the time comes.
 
 218 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 Don't think I preach too much. I am naturally 
 anxious about you. I have passed through the wood, and 
 know which are the paths to take, which to avoid. By 
 following my directions you wiU spare yourself many 
 troubles, many a heartache. — IMr. Morlcy, who is an 
 Oxford man, says that you would have a fair chance of 
 the Taylour Scholarship, if you have a grammatical and 
 literary mastery of German. You would have to choose 
 two languages. Absolute excellence in one would land 
 you victor. IMr. Swinburne gained the Scholarship 
 through his knowledge of French, which is consummate. 
 Probably Professor Max MiiUer would be one of the 
 examiners. 
 
 We have now the winter on us. Let me hear what you 
 are doing, and how it fares with you. You never speak 
 of the other fellows hving with the Professor. Can you 
 make nothing of them ? — Have you had your interview 
 with Marshal Canrobert ? Major Poussielque is com- 
 manding, I believe, at Langres, which is now invested. 
 Good-bye, my dear boy, and God be with you. — Your 
 loving father, George Meredith. 
 
 Do not forget to present my warmest compliments and 
 my Christmas greetings to Professor Zeller and his wife. 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 Kingston-on-Thames, S.W., Christmas 1870. 
 Yes, Fred, what you say of the beautiful picture 
 presented by an Ascetic priesthood which shall be allowed 
 marriage that one child of the union may reproduce the 
 cultivated virtues of the parents, is very true. Some- 
 thing of this I have said before (though you will not 
 remember it) ; but I objected and still object to the priest- 
 hood. Why any priesthood ? Surely when I see you 
 walk from Holly Hill to Bursledon in stole and cope and
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 219 
 
 beretta I cannot but feel at times that you undoubtedly 
 have what I confess I have thought once or twice before 
 — a tendency towards extremes ; though the demure 
 look you assume is very becoming and eclipses all the 
 curates ever dreamed of by a pulpit-stricken virgin. 
 But I object to your taking on a sacerdotal garb. It is 
 true that you should have a distinctive dress, and I think 
 it right that Purcell should have one hkewise. The Basin 
 of Miraculous Water which he carries about that you may 
 rub it upon the stomachs of this generation would, I per- 
 ceive clearly, not impress mankind with a proper sense 
 of its holiness, if you and he were not peculiarly attired, 
 and in our climate you would not (at least not yet) go 
 about Hke a couple of St. Johns. Still I demur to a 
 priestly garb — the more especially when I bear in mind 
 your late extraordinary oration against One who turned 
 the Water into Wine — in w^hich you so violently de- 
 nounced Him for having done so. Let me remark paren- 
 thetically that I do not deem Him unwise or misguided 
 in this matter : but you will declare that I wish to force 
 an argument, and I let the subject pass. That the 
 parents should be separated immediately after the birth 
 of one child, is, I am prepared to say, a mistake in your 
 doctrine. It is not human. You state that you have 
 become superhuman. All are not as you, however. I 
 have read in the ' Pali Mall Gazette ' of your appalling in- 
 vasion of the banquet given by the Mayor of Southampton 
 to the American Plenipotentiaries come to treat for the 
 admission of Great Britain among the States of the Union. 
 It appears that you approve the policy of our becoming 
 one Star in the spangled Banner. I have myself previ- 
 ously advocated the measure. But, as I never can go 
 so far as you, I cannot countenance you in exclaiming 
 that you are the Water God of Hamble Point, and then 
 at a given signal to Purcell, making cockshies of all the
 
 220 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 wine-bottles on the Mayor's hospitable board, and drench- 
 ing the guests with water from an enormous hose in 
 connection with the main-pipes. Here I decidedly join 
 in the condemnation of you pronounced by the news- 
 papers. Your behaviour was essentially tyrannical. 
 That I was prepared for. But it was also indiscreet, for 
 it will raise the masses not only against you but against 
 the element you adore. If every one of these American 
 envoys had come from the State of Maine, you would 
 but have given them their evening dose. As it is, you 
 have disgusted the majority. You will have seen my de- 
 fence of you in the ' Mg. Pt.' It is weak, because I really 
 could not say much. I have restrained Morley's hand 
 both in the ' Saturday ' and the ' Fortnightly.' The 
 joke in the ' Times ' — that ' the notorious Naval Captain 
 who walked over Hampshire with his Neptune behind 
 him, drew the water which he dashed at the people's 
 bellies from his brain, and had apparently an inex- 
 haustible supply ' — is neither witty nor laughable. But 
 that it is thought wit, and is laughed at, should make 
 you reflect. There is evidently the will to laugh. I 
 consider this a damnatory sign. 
 
 I know your rejoinder perfectly. — Extremes are the 
 chief teachers : — One excess corrects another ; Truth 
 must out in any shape. Very well. In December of 
 1866 I was finally convinced that you would on all sub- 
 jects take your own course ; or at least imagine you were 
 doing it by going further than any one else would or 
 dared go. Voila ! The poet has said, Ire necesse est — 
 we must go on : and each in his own way, I suppose. 
 — I have just finished the History of the inextinguishable 
 Sir Harry Firebrand of the Beacon, Knight Errant of the 
 19th century, in which mirror you may look and see — My 
 dear Fred and his loving friend, George Meredith.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 221 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 Garrick Club, Dec. 26, 1870. 
 
 My dear Lord Mayor, — All Cliristmas honours and 
 delights to you ! 
 
 The other day I quietly informed Morley of your 
 elevation. 1 Looking at him (about one minute subse- 
 quently) I saw him collecting his editorial fragments 
 with a hand pressed hard on his fore midriff. He faintly 
 expressed his amazement, but, as became a hero, his 
 first thought was for his friend — Morison, he said, must 
 not swallow this unheard-of pill without due preparation : 
 it would be too much for him in his sad state. We 
 agreed to concoct a rigmarole, and write an account 
 of a Kingston Pantomime — * Tuck Transformed ' — 
 telling him at the end of it that all was true. Morley 
 and I have determined at the first intimation of success 
 of the French arms to get up a subscription for an 
 
 Apotheosis of Tuck. 
 
 A Christmas table of Wild Boar's Head, Ribs of Beef, 
 Plum P. with honest hands grasping 
 below. Blessedness above — in the 
 Centre the Great One rising. 
 
 At Nonancourt they have the Uhlans. 
 
 Henri Poussielque is at Langres now in the thick of it, 
 a good soldier, and I trust he may be spared. Once more. 
 Tuck, for the fortieth time, I tell you to look at my ' Ode 
 to France ' in the forthcoming number of the Fortnightly 
 review. 
 
 And now may all legitimate pleasures be yours, may 
 your wife still see you scaling eminences, and accept my 
 love and esteem, and may your children flourish, as I 
 am happy to state that Willie Godson does, and Arthur 
 of Stuttgart. — Your cordial George Meredith. 
 
 ^ To the IMayoralty of Kingaton-on-Tlmmes.
 
 222 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 Box Hill, Dorking, Jan. 3, 1871. 
 
 My dear Fred, — Your last letter from Effingham Hill 
 reached me (with the date on the envelope Dec. 9) on 
 Sunday morning, open. I have written to the Post- 
 master-General about it. — According to appointment I 
 walked up to Ranmore, hailed for you in dense fog, and 
 had, hke the just man, nothing but the sound of my own 
 voice for answer. 
 
 Good health to you and all dear to you this New Year ! 
 It begins lamentably. We need to be braced. 
 
 The French seem upon their final errand, as far as 
 Paris is concerned. — Tell me how you take to my Ode now 
 that you have it. — Karl Bhnd's article is good : Von 
 Sybel 's a professorial diversion — one smells the cognac 
 of victory. Still I like him and note in him curiousl}^ 
 where the German mind, broad though it is, flattens. 
 The French points up. That the two should not be in 
 harmony is our desperate look out. Adieu, my dear 
 ]?red. — Your loving George Meredith. 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 Box Hill, Dorkino, Feb. 27, 1871. 
 
 My dear Fred, — . . . Your speech reads capitally. 1 
 heard from Harrison at a dinner some time back that 
 you spoke well at the London meeting ; but some one 
 told me that you obeyed a voice bidding you ' cut it 
 short.' Is it the fact ? 
 
 Things arc saddening enough in France. But I do not 
 remember the gloomy forecasts following the Wars of 
 Napoleon i. ? The Germans have retaliated in coin. 
 They too must pay for it. These developments only 
 prove that our speculations were more advanced than
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 223 
 
 realities. Tlirough such a course of teaching men must 
 go. Can you pretend to beheve that France was not in 
 need of the bitterest of lessons ? Her philosophers said 
 one thing, but military glory stuck to the passions of her 
 people. And many of her philosophers allowed them- 
 selves to be hoodwinked by the idea that France should 
 be dominant ' for the good of mankind,' instead of seeldng 
 to make her dominant by virtue and a bright example. 
 She trusted to the sword without even testing her steel. 
 She is down. I grieve for her ; I detest the severities 
 practised upon her. But I cannot forget that she ap- 
 pealed to the droit du plus fort. Nor can I forget that 
 she has always been the perturbation of Europe. The 
 Germans may be. That is to be seen. They at least 
 are what they pretend to be. A considerable number 
 of cheap prophets have followed their triumphant march 
 howling. I prefer to wait without prophesying. Let 
 France train a virtuous democracy, and she will spring 
 a mine in Germany amply to be revenged on the Hohen- 
 zollerns. Her cries of vengeance now are after the 
 pattern — too shockingly similar ! — of Ancient Pistol. 
 She ' eats and ene she swears.' 
 
 What I wish is that you and I should look to the good 
 future of men with some faith in it, and capacity to 
 regard current phases of history without letting our sen- 
 sations bhnd and bewilder us. I am neither German 
 nor French, nor, unless the nation is attacked, English. 
 I am European and Cosmopolitan — for humanity ! The 
 nation which shows most worth, is the nation I love and 
 reverence. 
 
 Confess that the French have conducted themselves 
 like mere children throughout. The probation may 
 accelerate their growth and bring their practice up to their 
 best professions. The Germans have behaved as the 
 very sternest of men, caring more for their Fatherland
 
 224 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 than for the well-being of men in the mass. I am suscep- 
 tible of admiration of their sterling qualities, holding 
 nevertheless that they will repent of the present selfish 
 restriction of their views. — Rage at me, Fred ! It is 
 better to bend the knee to Wisdom than march in the 
 chorusing ranks of the partizans. — I think with pain 
 that the Germans enter Paris this very day ! But the 
 City is not a ' holy City ' for me. The astonishing de- 
 lusion which makes Frenchmen think it so is one proof 
 of rudderless brains. Morley is not * German.' He 
 agrees with me that it would have been a silly madness to 
 create a terrible and a justly wrathful enemy for ourselves 
 (looking to the origin of this war), on the chance of 
 securing a frenzied, fantastical ally. So will you in time. 
 Generous sympathies hold you spell-bound. — Your ever 
 loving George Meredith. 
 
 To . 
 
 Box Hill, March 23, 1871. 
 
 My dear , — I will answer as plainly as you have 
 
 written. I cannot but be shocked and grieved to think 
 of the effect my manner of speaking has had in clashing 
 with your ' opinions, ideas, and hkings.' But that this 
 should prompt you to tell me that it makes my society 
 seem baneful to you ; and that only with me do you 
 suffer the consciousness that you fail to get new strength, 
 and that your complaint of me is not captious because 
 I am the only friend who has ever caused you to com- 
 plain — these are accusations which point in one direction, 
 that is, to the end of our intimacy. You consent to say 
 that upon the larger matters we are one. I have thought 
 so, and have considered the minor differences too small 
 to dwell on, the possible expression of them by one or 
 the other of us too mean a subject for the preciousness 
 of friendship in our short life to brood on. For I am
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 225 
 
 sensitive, and I likewise have thought myself here and 
 there roughly used by you. But I pardoned the offend- 
 ing minute when the hour had struck, and never thought 
 of identifying the offence with my friend. I chose to 
 blame myself, as the safer way of closing a slight wound. 
 It seems that I have been roughening you for six months. 
 When I last came over to you I was bright with the 
 happiness of being with you, and I remember I de- 
 nounced (as I supposed I might do to a friend) a poem 
 that struck me as worthless. I spoke like a man coming 
 off a country-road fasting. It may be too often my 
 manner. I might well think my friend would not let 
 it Uve with him, and that he knew my mind better than 
 to allow a sense of variance to spring from such differ- 
 ences in open talk. Possibly a nature that I am proud 
 to know never ceases in its growth, is passing now through 
 some delicate stage which finds me importimate ; or 
 you feel that you have outstripped me, and are tempted 
 to rank me with the vulgar. I can bring a thousand 
 excuses for a letter that I have read often to assure myself 
 it is among the things which are, but arrive only at the 
 conclusion I have named. We will see one another as 
 Httle as we can for two or three years, and by and by 
 may come together again naturally. And if not, you 
 will know I am glad of the old time, am always proud 
 of you, always heart in heart with you on all the great 
 issues of our life, and in all that concerns your health 
 and fortunes. I suffer too much to-day to desire that 
 any explanation should restore us to our past footing. 
 Almost I am tempted to hope that I am quite valueless 
 to you, for as I am not a man to send such a letter as you 
 have just written to me, without deeply weighing every 
 word in it and probable signification of its burden to the 
 reader, or without weighing my feelings well against 
 my friend's, so I am not the man to receive one -without 
 VOL. I. — p
 
 226 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 determining to abandon a position that has exposed me 
 to be womided. What you have permitted yourself to 
 write, and I to quote from you, cuts friendship to the 
 ground. That I should be the only one of your friends 
 ever to have done you harm, is not a nice distinction to 
 reflect on. But I think I have said enough. I have 
 answered you plainly and fully, and as to a sane man 
 master of the meaning of his words and meaning exactly 
 what they commonly convey. — I am ever yours faith- 
 fully and warmly, George Meredith. 
 
 To Arthur G. Meredith. 
 
 Gaerick Club, June 12, 1871. 
 
 My dear Arthur, — The enclosed letter will intro- 
 duce you to a lady who is the mother of (I met him at 
 ]Mr. Benecke's at Mickleham, three days before the de- 
 claration of war last year) a Lieutenant von Schweizer- 
 barth, a very gallant young officer. I have the letter 
 from his brother, and I wish you to know him ; from 
 what I saw of him he is a gentleman, and I shall be glad 
 to hear that you have made his acquaintance. He was, 
 I beheve, in all the chief actions and battles of the Wiir- 
 temberg army, and before Paris, and fought at Le Bourget. 
 He constantly sent communications to his mother during 
 the progress of the war, and these were forwarded to 
 IVIickleham and were singularly modest and very inter- 
 esting. Let me know whether you have seen him when 
 you next write. 
 
 To-morrow is your birthday, my dear boy, and we 
 all wish you happiness. I put down £2 as a tip to you, 
 and you will receive £10 out of my money order to Pro- 
 fessor Zeller for your journey either on the Danube or 
 where you will. Out of this £12 I suppose you will find
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 227 
 
 enough. I know that when I was a lad it would have 
 made me jump hke the French statue of Freedom on the 
 column of the Bastille. The trip you propose looks 
 promising. As to Vienna, you are quite aware of my 
 objections to your going there. Still if you give me your 
 word to behave honourably I shall not oppose your going. 
 Dr. Sana's last address in Vienna was No. 5 Kleeblatt- 
 gasse near the Graben. I am sm-e he would be delighted 
 to see you, but whether he is in Vienna now I cannot tell. 
 Captain Brackenbury lives in England. He was ' Times ' 
 Correspondent with the army of Prince Frederick-Charles 
 from Orleans to Le Mans. If you see Dr. Sana, perhaps 
 he will take you round the beautiful HoUenthal and up 
 the Schneeberg, as he did me, and it would be capital 
 fun for you. The Schneeberg is about eight hours from 
 Vienna (that is, you will be near the Chalets in that time). 
 Go to the Belvedere at Vienna ; the pictures are notable ; 
 there are superb Titians. The hotel Stadt Frankfort 
 has good cookery, and if you mount to the third floor is 
 not dear. It is close to the Graben, and is therefore the 
 most central place you could find, though a little dearer 
 than some of the suburb hotels, which are, however, 
 dirty, I am told. — But here is your Aunt Sarah inviting 
 you to Dauphine again. What do you say ? It rests with 
 you to decide upon your com^se. At any rate, WTite to 
 her. — On the 10th your Mama presented us with a little 
 girl ; so besides a brother you have now a sister, and I 
 hope no more. Mother and babe are in excellent con- 
 dition. I think I shall be at Stuttgart some time in 
 August. This is not certain ; it depends on supplies, 
 but I want very much to see you and shall do my utmost 
 to come. — ^Your loving father, Geokge Meredith.
 
 228 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 To Arthur Cecil Blunt. 
 
 Box Hill, Dorking, July 4, 1871. 
 
 Mr DEAR Bltint, — Would it suit you as well to come 
 on Saturday week ? Some one makes a point of asking 
 me to leave home on Simday, and it strikes me that wet 
 weather on this small and (except in babies) barren crib 
 would act evilly on your nervous system. But, as I want 
 you to come to walk you over these hills, decide positively 
 for this Saturday if you are engaged for the following 
 Saturday. Now this is plain. In any case prepare to 
 tramp, fair or foul. And write to me. — Your faithful 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 Box Hill, DoiiKiKa, Julij 11, 1871. 
 
 My dear Fred, — Wilhe is delighted with his toy, and 
 aU day long we hear shots and may see men transformed 
 into women in a jifify — to the mockery of the actual ! — 
 Will your poet's dreams ever bring us to the happy state 
 of toys, that one crack in the eye may turn a hairy beast 
 into a lovely beauty ? You quote your poets, Fred, and 
 expect them to perform just similar prodigies. Not what 
 should be, but what can, as a step thereunto, is the 
 reasonable aim. Nor will any of your pop-guns pelleted 
 with uncompromising decisions affect much the existing 
 state of things, though they will, I often fear, wear you 
 out before your time. You do well, and even nobly, 
 but you are one half wrong, for you go against nature, 
 and nature says that to work soundly the creature must 
 be in that state of contentment to which philosophy 
 points you and poetry elevates you. You deny to man 
 the right to be in this state while there is one miserable 
 upon the earth, and you deny to the little ones peace 
 in their infancy because of the existence of error. To
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 229 
 
 put it in one word, the cliaracter of your opposition is 
 impatience. Adieu. — I love you, and am yours, 
 
 George M. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 Box Hill, Nov. 2 (1871). 
 
 Dearest Tuck, — Our letters have crossed. Yours 
 has given me great pleasure. The hand of the workman 
 is inspired by praise, and I know that you and the un- 
 purchaseable D'Troia never give it but honestly. 
 
 It struck me that a perusal of the book ^ without en- 
 forced pauses might lead you to see that the conception 
 was full and good, and was honestly worked out. I 
 resisted every temptation to produce great and startling 
 effects (after the scene of the Statue, which was per- 
 missible in art, as coming from a boy and coloured by a 
 boy's wonder). 
 
 Note, as you read, the gradual changes of the growing 
 Harry, in his manner of regarding his father and the 
 world. I have carried it so far as to make him perhaps 
 dull towards adolescence and young manhood, except 
 to one studying the narrative — as in the scenes with 
 Dr. Julius. Such effects are deadly when appearing in 
 a serial issue. I was here and there hand-tied, too, by 
 gentlemanly feeling in relation to the reigning Royal 
 House, sweet Tory Tuck ! or I should (and did on paper) 
 have launched out. The Speech at the City Banquet 
 would have satisfied a Communist Red originally. And 
 I had planned startling doings for the season of the 
 Grand Parade. But I constrained myself. I suppose 
 I am unlucky, for I hear the novel does not move. It is 
 confounded by Mudie with the quantity coming out. 
 
 Let me hear of your address at Horsham. 
 
 Shall you have your Gold Barge on the Mole to float 
 
 ^ The Adventures of Harry Richmond.
 
 230 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 dowTi to Kingston in ? If so, I should like to accompany 
 you. I have often desired to eat a swan on board, and 
 see my countrymen kneeling on the tow-path as the pro- 
 cession goes by. 
 
 We have decided to enlarge our cottage, if the walls 
 will stand it, and then we shall have a spare bedroom 
 for friends, and you will visit us. Even now — we have 
 hardly the courage to suggest it — you could have our 
 room at the Burford Inn, and pass a day or two in this 
 region, walking about as in the period when you mooned 
 musically over the tantalizing siege. Reply to this 
 point at your leisure. — Do you think that Shirley Brooks "^ 
 would care to read Richmond ? I don't know his 
 address in Regent's Park. 
 
 The babes are well. Willie Godson has arrived at 
 the stage of younker, and in him our dwelling has to 
 rejoice that it possesses all in one, a perpetually rolling 
 barrel, an incessant trumpet, a fife indifferently per- 
 formed upon, a door creaking to every wind, a questioning 
 machine, a hive of bees gone mad in the solstice and 
 mistaking our ears for honey-bells — add on a cat, or its 
 gut, striving after melody untaught. When haply I 
 want to finish a last volume by sending a troublesome old 
 gentleman to Bedlam, I shall bring the Younker on the 
 scene, who will finish him quicldy. 
 
 Marie Eveleen has shown a taste for dancing. I gave 
 her inadvertently a first lesson, and am now her marked 
 victim. She will have me, and I have to dance her, and 
 sing her, and trot about the room until, I assure you, 
 half an hour of it is equal to as much of dumb-bells. 
 
 She was Jennerated last week, and has taken well, 
 is a new woman. Adieu. — My love to you all, and I 
 am ever your affectionate G. M. 
 
 ^ Then editing Punch.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 231 
 
 To Tom Taylor. 
 
 Box HriiL, DoKKiNG, Nov. 18, 1871. 
 
 My dear Tom, — How I envy you the new subject you 
 have chosen ! ^ It has been ringing through me all the 
 morning. I feel like a man who has been introduced 
 to the beautiful woman of a friend, and foimd her in- 
 comparable, made for him himself, and all he can do is 
 to cry out in honesty — take warning if you don't espouse 
 her within a fortnight, and further, if even then you don't 
 do justice to her, positive and spiritual, I feel myself 
 released from the obligation to respect your claims, I 
 will challenge your reputation, and I will beat her forth- 
 with, in contempt of you. 
 
 Why not first write the story, and then dramatize it ? 
 It would make as lovely a story as striking a drama. 
 For the latter it has every splendid and noble quality. 
 Oh ! you happy fellow. But be worthy of your luck. 
 Let nothing delay you, — I repeat my first warning. 
 
 What I just fear is, that you will make the brother a 
 villain. Give him some higher ground of action, drop 
 villany. There is here a chance of lending the theme 
 a touch of old tragedy of the classic idea. For this pur- 
 pose of course you must heighten the hero's character, 
 and have him to be more than a simple captain of horse. 
 Jacobitism could hardly inspire him : the sense of fealty 
 might, and it might give occasion to put stress on the 
 ancient notion of loyal sentiment to a race in a young 
 man's heart — inherited. The brother then, standing for 
 law, order, and the Hke, might think the State had reason 
 to dread this youth. The sister would take the woman's 
 view. Then you have the three in a perfect triangle, fit 
 for your best powers — or mine. 
 
 1 Rofors to Tom Taylor's play, Lady Clancarty, or Wedded and Wooed, 
 first produced at the Royal Olympic Theatre, March 9, 1874.
 
 232 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 The above only to throw you a modest hint from your 
 hasty outHne. — Ever lovingly yours, 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To John Morley. 
 
 Box Hill, Dec. 7, 1871. 
 
 My dearest M., — . . . Oh Heavens ! what treachery, 
 I heard of it on Sunday at Effingham Hill. And without 
 consulting me ! One comfort is, you haven't a tree on 
 the Estate — not a shrub.^ Why, I know the house. I 
 inspected it — I rejected it long before you had an idea 
 of it ! But I confess I 'm jealous now you have really 
 gone and made it your own. 
 
 Now to business — I have a Grand Ode to France — 
 called simply ' France 1870 ' : from my point of view 
 of sympathy and philosophy ; which I think is ours. 
 Latterly I have felt poetically weakened by the pressure 
 of philosophical reflection, but this is going, and a fuller 
 strength comes of it, for I believe I am within the shadow 
 of the Truth, and as it 's my nature to sing I may now 
 do well. The amount of space will possibly be 4 or 4| 
 pages. Do not print it too close. I will send it on 
 Monday or Tuesday next ; and I should wish you to 
 forward a proof to Harrison as well as to me, that I may 
 have his opinion on it, if he will be so condescending as 
 to give it, with possible suggestions, before the hour for 
 returning to printer. — Let me hear from you that you 
 will take it. I can say that it 's worth a place, but there 
 should not be delay in outing with it. If you won't I 
 must, and my poor purse ! 
 
 Fred as usual. He declares he knows a lady — a great 
 novel-reader — who finds * Harry Richmond ' quite unin- 
 telligible in parts. He advises me in these serious times 
 
 ^ Refers to Mr. Morley having taken Pitfield — a white house stand- 
 ing on the south side of the Hogsback on the road near Puttenham and 
 midway between Guildford and Farnham.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 233 
 
 ' to tako to political writing.' I reply that it demands 
 special study. He insists that I have only to give my 
 genuine convictions. I admit the novelty in newspaper 
 writing but urge its insufficiency. ' Not at all,' says he. 
 I am to be allowed to produce one vol. novels on Questions 
 of the Day. Morley is quoted as being utterly of his 
 opinion. I propose to him an Opera libretto to popularise 
 the Democratic movement and bring our chief personages 
 
 before the eyes of the nobility. in love with the 
 
 Princess L meditates the enlevement of the lady that 
 
 he may breed Radicals from Royalty : delivers idea in 
 
 ballad. B , impressionable to poetry and music, is 
 
 half won, but checked by religious sentiment : — Ballad — 
 The Waverer. 
 
 Fred savagely : ' Good God ! How you can spout 
 buffoonery in times like these ! ' 
 
 Pathetic ballad by M. ' In times like these.' 
 
 The poor fellow danced with disgust. He is fast 
 assombrissant tout entier. 
 
 Your article on Byron admirable : nothing so good yet 
 written of him and from the highest view. I confessed 
 to Fred that if I could write like that I would write more 
 prose. He groaned. He has a private chamber of 
 groans. George Meredith. 
 
 PS. — ^I sent Greenwood a review of an imaginary vol. 
 of poems, ' Armageddon, etc.,' dedicated to Dr. Gumming 
 of Scotland. The wretch posted proofs, but his courage 
 seems to have failed him. 
 
 To Arthur G. Meredith. 
 
 Box Hill, Dorking, 
 England, Dec. 16, 1871. 
 
 My dear Arthur, — Give my warmest regards to 
 Florrie when you arrive at Heidelberg. I think it
 
 234 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 remarkably kind of her to invite you — though I am sure 
 you make your companionship worth having. I shall 
 be delighted to have a letter from Heidelberg. The 
 OdenAvald in winter must be fine : not so suggestive of 
 Ossian as a land of crag and mist, but with a grandeur 
 of its own. As to Ossian and Homer, your choice re- 
 presents a phase of thoughtful youth. Ossian's imagery 
 is intangible. Homer's is all concrete. Homer's comes 
 up from the heart of Nature. Ossian's is somewhat 
 forced, and seems due to a sentimental habit and the 
 imperiousness of sentiment in colouring all of its own 
 hue. The Homeric battles, Councils and speeches are 
 still as fresh as ever owing to the naturalness of the 
 imagery, the vigour of the flow, the manly music of the 
 lines. The death of Patroclus, the grieving of Achilles, 
 are imperishable things ; the parting of Hector and 
 Andromache, the elderly Troy looking at Helen and 
 other scenes : — and observe, that all the characters are 
 distinct, painted without effort, but with the sharp 
 outhne of life. — Of course you must make allowance for 
 the ancient spirit : and the truth is, the modern tone 
 (under the guise of a weird, primeval, mystical melody 
 and system of verse) is what catches you. I am not at 
 all sorry, and you have good examples — Napoleon was 
 once in love with Ossian. It has the same effect on the 
 young as ruins of castles and abbej^'s seen by moonlight. 
 The more imaginative and the sensitive are sure to like 
 him best, but there is not a doubt as to which is the 
 greater poet. In fact you are of an age to like the minor 
 song, and not quite to appreciate the great organ-notes. 
 I have known a period when I would rather have been 
 reading Tennyson than Shakespeare : so you see you 
 have an example. I wish I had time to write on.^ — Your 
 loving father, George Meredith.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 235 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 Box Hill, Dorking, March 21, 1872. 
 
 My dear Fred, — All thanks to you for your thought- 
 fulness about Arthur, into whose future I wish to see a 
 path. But it would be impossible to get him over to 
 compete, with a fair chance, within a couple of months, 
 and I confess I shrink from the idea of his going to China. 
 He is having a good, thorough education, and is obser- 
 vant and interested in European affairs, and to him the 
 East would seem banishment ; and for what ? There 
 would be httle chance of his rising, I apprehend. Don't 
 think me hard to please. I am very anxious about him. 
 Should you have further information in praise of this 
 service, I should like to hear it, but I shudder at the 
 thought of losing sight of the boy altogether. 
 
 The behaviour of the House of Commons was filthy. 
 They are at red heat of loyalty, and I am persuaded that 
 men anxious to serve the public would be wiser-minded 
 in timing their motions. Think of it ! — after the English 
 have just seen a Republic overthrown by a Monarchy, 
 they are expected to listen with decency to a pair of 
 avowed Republicans ! — and their Prince only lately well 
 out of a typhoid bed ! It is asking too much of them. 
 
 I should have liked to go up to the lecture, but it in- 
 volved leaving home for a night, and work for a morning, 
 and I am hurrying a new performance. When it is printed 
 send me a copy. I like the headings. 
 
 JMiUicent Maxse ! 
 Hark at it ! 
 
 Miss Millicent Maxse was fond of lier Ma, 
 
 And chanted her aristocratic tra-la 
 
 In contempt of her stern democratic Papa, 
 
 And to spite him she married a Markis — ha ! ha ! 
 
 It won't do. It 's horrid. It dances on the m's hoydenly.
 
 236 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 Marie suggests Violet. . . . Geraldine is charming. 
 Leila, Gwendolen. Maxse will take anything but 
 Millicent. — Emilia Maxse gets a better accent. Millicent 
 avaunt ! It 's a proper parson's wife's name ; it over- 
 flows with female priggery. You have to lift the nose 
 to enounce it. 
 
 I am glad you take to Davis. We have a great regard 
 for her, and know her to be a single-minded brave old 
 woman. — Yours ever, George Meredith. 
 
 To Arthur G. Meredith. 
 
 Box Hill, Dorking, Surrey, 
 England, April 25, 1872. 
 
 My dear Arthur, — . . . Strong friendships and inter- 
 communications with foreigners will refresh your life in 
 this island, and the Germans are solid. Stick to a people 
 not at the mercy of their impulses, and besides a people 
 with so fine a Hterature must be worthy of love. — Captain 
 Maxse wrote to me the other day about an examination 
 in the Foreign Office for the post of Chinese interpreter — ■ 
 for you : if successful to go out to China with a salary 
 of £200 per annum and learn the Chinese tongue of 
 li-ro and fo-ki. I declined it : I hope I was right. I felt 
 sure that it would be repugnant to you to spend your life 
 in China, where the climate is hard, society horrid, life 
 scarcely (to ray thought) endurable. Perhaps you might 
 have chosen Japan. But it would have been for very- 
 many years perpetual banishment. Let me hear what 
 you think of it. — Study Cicero carefully. He is a fine 
 moralist, a friend of scholars, a splendid trainer for a 
 public life of any serious and exalted ambition. — What 
 you say of our religion is what thoughtful men feel : 
 and that you at the same time can recognise its moral
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 237 
 
 value, is matter of rejoicing to me. The Christian teach- 
 ing is sound and good : the ecclesiastical dogma is an 
 instance of the poverty of humanity's mind hitherto, 
 and has often in its hideous fangs and claws shown 
 whence we draw our descent. — Don't think that the 
 obscenities mentioned in the Bible do harm to children. 
 The Bible is outspoken upon facts, and rightly. It is 
 because the world is pruriently and stupidly shamefaced 
 that it cannot come in contact with the Bible without 
 convulsions. I agree with the Frommen that the book 
 should be read out, for Society is a wanton hypocrite, 
 and I would accommodate her in nothing : though for 
 the principle of Society I hold that men should be ready 
 to lay down their lives. Belief in the religion has done 
 and does this good to the young ; it floats them through 
 the perilous sensual period when the animal appetites 
 most need control and transmutation. If you have not 
 the belief, set yourself to love virtue by understanding 
 that it is your best guide both as to what is due to others 
 and what is for your positive personal good. If your 
 mind honestly rejects it, you must call on your mind to 
 supply its place from your own resources. Otherwise you 
 will have only half done your work, and that is always 
 mischievous. Pray attend to my words on this subject. 
 You know how Socrates loved Truth. Virtue and Truth 
 are one. Look for the truth in everything, and follow 
 it, and you will then be hving justly before God. Let 
 nothing flout your sense of a Supreme Being, and be 
 certain that your understanding wavers whenever you 
 chance to doubt that he leads to good. We grow to 
 good as surely as the plant grows to the light. The 
 school has only to look through history for a scientific 
 assurance of it. And do not lose the habit of praying to 
 the unseen Divinity. Prayer for worldly goods is worse 
 than fruitless, but prayer for strength of soul is that
 
 238 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 passion of the soul which catches the gift it seeks. — 
 Your loving father, George Meredith. 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 Box Hill, July 2, 1872. 
 
 My dear Fred, — . . . As to the Century Club supper, 
 I thank you. I return you the paper. The Club should 
 not sup until it has deliberated a century before the act. 
 Supping on any occasion is doubtful wisdom, but when 
 you do, it should be hke sinning, profuse — a good go in 
 at it, not ' inexpensive.' Really, Fred, what are you 
 coming to ! I supped once with a damsel on ale, cheese 
 and onions. And what are you going to commemorate ? 
 You are going to make speeches ! If there is one thing 
 to make any meal indigestible, it 's spouting. My 
 neighbour's wretched crudities which I 'm to bolt, good 
 Lord ! — ^The lighting of the Aquarium, where one may 
 see the fish that won't come to the plate, is simply bar- 
 barous. I am certain it was at your suggestion that 
 wines were excluded. I 'm persuaded too that you 're 
 in error in supposing you belong to this Century, and 
 it 's only by courtesy the fellows of it don't tell you so ; 
 it 's the next you belong to, and you will find it out ; 
 and you were not made for a Club, but for mankind, so 
 you sec you 're wrong all round, and you will be like a 
 member of the Aquarium out of water there. Don't go. 
 Come to me that day. — Your unrefreshed George M. 
 
 PS. — Does this ' Supper ' mean ' Dinner ' at a reasonable 
 hour ? — say. And is there a chance of no Speech ifica- 
 tion ? And might I have time to inspect the Aquarium 
 quietly by coming ? And dress anyhow ?
 
 LETTERS OF GEOKGE MEREDITH 239 
 
 To Frederick Greenwood.^ 
 
 Box Hill, Jan. 1, 1873. 
 
 My dear Greenwood, — Open your heart a minute 
 to receive a greeting of the New Year from me. May 
 you fight as victoriously — bravely you always will — this 
 year as last ! May suppressed gout go limping on the 
 other side of the river ! May you be touched with the 
 wand of wisdom to throw off your one bhndness and 
 see the virtues of my pen as with a flash of revelation ! 
 
 By the way, I am having some fun in the Graphic, and 
 might by and by turn the Dialogues to good purpose, 
 but I fear the grave commercial men sitting on it won't 
 stand me long. Glance at next number, if it should 
 come under your eye. Do let us meet for an evening this 
 month ? Fitz James Stephen's articles are fine out- 
 hitting and have judicial good sense. They are the prose 
 of Carlyle's doctrines, valuable, profitable, but to me, 
 though I take their smashing force, just not conclusive 
 enough to make me anxious to hear the rejoinder. It is 
 of great importance that what he says should be said. 
 His side of the case has hitherto been woefully dumb 
 — unable to supply an athlete. So bold and able a writer 
 will set a balance. Onlj'^ guard against a certain sombrely 
 prognosticating tone that he has : — as in the sermon on 
 New Year's Eve. Opposed to the artificial cheerfulness 
 of the Journals, it 's like starlight after pantomime fires. 
 But it gives the PaU Mall by degrees a Mr. Toobad 
 twang. 
 
 Some one assured me that George Smith had yielded 
 
 ^ Author and journalist ; originator and publisher of the Pall Mall 
 Oazette. When Yates Thompson purchased this and turned it into a 
 Liberal organ, Greenwood and other members of the staff formed the 
 St. James's Oazette. It was Frederick Greenwood who first suggested 
 to Disraeli that purchase of the Suez Canal shares which made England 
 master 'of that Gate to the East. Ho subsequently edited the Anti- 
 jacobin.
 
 240 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 his part in the P. M. to Spottiswoode : not true, I 
 hope ? 
 
 I have looked at Morris's poem * Enough for love,' — 
 ' Love is enough,' I mean. Have you ? I looked away. 
 The look was enough. Our public seems to possess the 
 fearful art of insensibly castrating its favourites. The 
 songs are of the species of Fitzball's Gossamer Tree : 
 charming in melody, but there is no such thing as a 
 gossamer tree. I hope when Swinburne publishes his 
 ' Tristram ' you will review him. Take him at his best 
 he is by far the best — finest poet ; truest artist — of the 
 young lot — when he refrains from pointing a hand at 
 the genitals. And I trust he has done so this time. I 
 never see him, and have to imagine that he has taken 
 offence — without a formal editorial letter to tell me of 
 it, as in a famous case known to us. All states of life 
 have their privileges, and mine is to be behind the scenes 
 of many illustrious and ringing names, and to laugh. 
 How truly wise is so and so ! I hear, and I bow. The 
 aim of the pretenders must be but to have this homage 
 of the public, and who would rob them of it because he 
 happens to be behind them on the stage and peruses a 
 dead blank instead of the pretty picture confronting the 
 pensive ? I would run on, but you are a busy man. If 
 we can't meet, I will invite myself to you for the evening. 
 I hope your daughter still improves. — From your loving 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To Frederick Greenwood. 
 
 Box Hill, Dorking, March 12, 1874. 
 My dear Greenwood, — I should like to review 
 * Spain and the Spaniards ' of Azamar Batuk ; and also 
 ' Yu-Pe-Ya's Lute ' by Mrs. Webster, if I see stuff in it. 
 Will you leave them out for me ? I want work. My 
 poor ' Bcauchamp ' is not thought good for the market
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 241 
 
 by George Smith, who is (as he always is) very kind 
 about it. — Your faithful George Meredith. 
 
 To John Morley. 
 
 Box Hill, Dorking, May 22, 1874. 
 
 My dear Morley, — I thank you very much for step- 
 ping over the obstruction for our mutual convenience 
 in the matter of * Beauchamp.' Greenwood and Maxse 
 told me that the work pleased you. I need scarcely 
 assure you that I look upon your appreciation of my 
 labour as a good reward of it. I write for you and men 
 like you. Consequently when the greater paymaster 
 failed me, I hoped the work might be accepted where 
 it would be more suitably accommodated, feeling quite 
 certain that you would allow nothing to stand in the 
 way of your estimation of it on its merits. Your reluct- 
 ance to undertake the burden of so lengthy a production, 
 I cannot but think reasonable, and I gladly meet your 
 kind proposal that I should cut it short as much as I 
 can, without endangering the arteries. I will get the 
 MS. from George Smith immediately, and do my utmost 
 upon it. It strikes me that the parts to lop will be the 
 letters, a portion of the Visit to Normandy, the heavier 
 of the electioneering passages, introductory paragraphs 
 to chapters, and dialogues passim that may be considered 
 not vital to the central idea. That, which may be stated 
 to be the personal abnegation coming, in spite of errors 
 here and there (and as it were in spite of the man himself), 
 of a noble devotion to politics from the roots up, I think 
 I can retain uninjured — possibly improved by the ex- 
 clusion of a host of my own reflections. At any rate they 
 can be reprinted subsequently. Chapman will buy the 
 book for the 3 vol. issue. It rests with me that this 
 should be brought about. I will talce the liberty to let 
 
 VOL. L — Q
 
 242 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 you know to what amount, and when, the task of excision 
 has been performed. 
 
 My httle ones, I am glad to say, are well, and so is 
 my wife, whom I join in sending her compHments and 
 regards to Airs. Morley. 
 
 Let me add that I await the continuation of the 
 essay on Compromise with some impatience. — I am your 
 obhged and faithful George Meredith. 
 
 To Moncure D. Conway. 
 
 Box Hill, Doeking, June 18, 1874. 
 
 Dear Sir, — I have been away from home, and I regret 
 very much that your letter of the 29th May should have 
 remained unanswered up to this date. 
 
 I am engaged in cutting do\Ma my novel for the ' Fort- 
 nightly Review.' The task is hard, for I have at least 
 to excise a third of my work, which appears to be a fuU 
 three-vols. measure. Supposing that I accomplish it to 
 the satisfaction of the Editor, the first chapters will be 
 published in the Septr. number, as far as I can calculate. 
 Would it be of use to you to have early serial sheets ? 
 
 I feel bound to warn you of the nature of my work. It 
 is not likely to please the greater number of readers. 
 Mr. George Smith (of Smith, Elder & Co.) could not take it 
 for the ' ComhiU Magazine.' It is philosophical-political, 
 with no powerful stream of adventure : an attempt to 
 show the forces roimd a young man of the present day, 
 in England, who would move them, and finds them un- 
 utterably solid, though it is seen in the end that he does 
 not altogether fail, has not lived quite in vain. Of 
 course, this is done in the concrete. A certain drama 
 of self-conquest is gone through, for the hero is not 
 perfect. He is bom of the upper class, and is scarcely
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 243 
 
 believed in by any class, except when he vexes his own, 
 and it is then to be hated. At the same time the mild 
 spirit of a prosperous middle class, that is not extremely 
 alarmed, is shown to be above persecuting ; so that the 
 unfortunate young man is in danger of being thought 
 dull save by those who can enter his idea of the advance- 
 ment of Humanity and hia passion for it. In this he is 
 a type. And I think his History a picture of the time 
 — ^taking its mental action, and material ease and in- 
 difference, to be a necessary element of the picture. 
 
 But I am afraid all this will not sound hopeful to you in 
 the interests of an American publisher, if it should be on 
 behalf of one that you do me the honour to address me. 
 
 I find myself writing to you on a matter of business. 
 I am indebted to your lectures for support, and have 
 often wished to thank you for them. I beg you to 
 pardon the liberty I take in doing so. — I am, dear sir, 
 yours most faithfully, George Meredith. 
 
 To John Morley. 
 
 Box Hill, Dorkinq, July 14, 1874. 
 
 My dear Morley, — Since you are inchned generously 
 to trust to me to cut the Novel short, I promise you that 
 it shall be done to your satisfaction, as to quantity. 
 The ' mutilation ' does me no hurt ; but hitherto I have 
 merely looked at it to see that it could be done ; — but 
 with shudders to think how much more there was to do ! 
 The central portion, I fear, must be cut to pieces, con- 
 densed, re-written. — I would have begim upon the MS. 
 immediately ; but Chapman had given me to suppose 
 that you were very anxious for space for critical and 
 attractive articles. — I fancied there was no hurry. — To- 
 day I post 3 chapters, which I fancy will come within 
 the pages you number for me. The excisions are not
 
 244 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 so numerous here as they will be subsequently to the 
 Venetian scenes. These also I shall be able to cut down 
 a httle. Remember that I despatch the sheets to Virtue 
 because it is your wish : I am not anxious to begin. — 
 I will try my hand at a paragraph or two of Prologue. 
 I see that it is wanted. It is difficult. If I had but 
 temporary command of your style I should not fear. 
 
 The latest portion ' On Compromise ' is very good 
 indeed. — Are the instances a trifle over-famihar for the 
 dignity of the Essay ? They at least give your meaning 
 clearly and bring them home — are hkely to do downright 
 service. For that purpose it will not do to stand much 
 aloof — among the sons of Hengist. I have just returned 
 from Uckfield, where his descendants are in the major- 
 ity, though they would assume Horsa to be his wife. — 
 Morison's ' Impossible French Republic ' strikes one as 
 overwhelmingly true — as it is powerful. 
 
 To John Morley. 
 
 Box Hill, July 23, 1874. 
 
 My dear Morley, — I find I can say better what should 
 be said of Beauchamp in a paragraph at the head of the 
 4th chapter — I am very shy of prefaces, and by intro- 
 ducing my one or two remarks incidentally I hope to 
 escape from a tone that seems to avoid the apology only 
 by some loftiness — or the reverse. I am afraid it would 
 not be I who could put the intermediate touch. Con- 
 ception rarely fails me, though ability does, and I can 
 barely conceive of its being done in the proper tone. — 
 I own that you might do it for one of your own works : 
 but for a piece of fiction having a serious aim, and before 
 a pubhc that scorns the serious in fiction, and whose wits 
 are chiefly trained to detect pretension, it is more than 
 commonly difficult.
 
 LETTERS or GEORGE MEREDITH 245 
 
 I will take care that Virtue prints the next chapter early, 
 so that, if you will be so good as to offer it, I may have 
 your counsel anent the paragraph. 
 
 Did I speak to you of Morison's article ? It abounded 
 in cleverness : it threw me over and silenced me : — but 
 is it just to be writing so decisively imhopefuUy ? Many 
 of his illustrations are excellent. It is at any rate 
 admirable journahsm. — I am, yours very faithfully, 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 Box Hill, August 5, 1874. 
 
 My dear Fred, — Probably you are in strong sunshine. 
 Here we have a chilly day, a shrouded sky, half a sus- 
 picion of light now and then, a bit of a breeze that has 
 puffed spasmodic life into the yachts at Cowes, and shakes 
 the rain from our junipers. The fine weather has become 
 a Christian penitent, and makes everybody unhappy 
 around her. — How I long to be with you ! I am afraid 
 that the doing of justice to Beauchamp and other work 
 I have will nail me dovvn (a cofifinj'^ phrase !), or rather, I 
 am fearing it, for I still look forward with a bit of hope. 
 
 On Sunday White arrived, in attendance upon Mr. 
 Jacob Homburg,! of whom we are aU very fond. He is a 
 nice little feUow with an addiction to hunting rabbits, 
 that I must cure him of, and a passion for the kitchen, 
 due to the soft influences of 5^our cook, probably incurable. 
 Already he has taken to his new home, follows me well and 
 seems to like his quarters. The exception to his good 
 conduct is, that he refuses biscuit and thinks of standing 
 out for meat pure and simple. 
 
 You have seen the papers and meditated upon the 
 Beecher-Tilton scandal. Guilty or not, there is a sickly 
 snuffiness about the religious fry that makes the tale of 
 
 ^ A dachshound, the gift of Captain Maxse.
 
 246 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 their fornications and adulteries absolutely repulsive to 
 read of, and but for the feeding of the reptile sarcasm 
 in our bosoms, it would disgust one more than a chronicle 
 of the amours of costermongers. 
 
 If Austria permits to you the * Fortnightly,' you will 
 have seen that Beauchamp has made a start. It is a 
 singularly fine number. 
 
 Do you laiow I have a great liking for being in Austria, 
 and if I come I would propose a route something like 
 this : to be at Nuremberg about the 22nd (I cannot be 
 off before the 20th) : to proceed to Ratisbon, and by 
 steamer to Linz and Passau : thence quickly to the Salz- 
 kammergut, and by any route you like to Tyrol and 
 Lienz, for a few days among the dolomites' valleys : then 
 by rail to Verona and by the North Italian lakes home- 
 ward anyhow. — Would such a scheme please you, with 
 some small amount of knapsack walking ? Tell me. 
 For walking is the thing I must have, or it will be waste 
 of time and money for me. Up at four a.m., a walk to 
 breakfast, a walk to dinner, a stroll, and then early to 
 the couch. — Latterly I have been rising here at half -past 
 five, and have enjoyed the tonic morning air immensely, 
 yet more the fresh loveliness of the downs and fields, the 
 velvet shadows, sharp and thin, and the exquisite sky. 
 This morning there was little of that, however. The 
 weather seems to be making up for the jolly squalls and 
 the gale wo had crossing to Cherbourg once. Changes 
 liave come since then ! Where 's the Susan ? Where 's 
 the Grebe ? — By the way, Betty Vulliamy would like to 
 know whether you are a Good Templar, and if not whether 
 you are willing to become one. I don't know the nature 
 of the rites of initiation. 
 
 So spins the world away. — I would not have you write, 
 because it 's better for your health's sake that you should 
 not ; but you may jot down what you think of my plan
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 247 
 
 of a tour, or what your proposition is : and what, sup- 
 posing we do not meet upon the date you name, your 
 aim is likely to be. Whither you will go, and for how 
 long, and which way homeward. — I have not abandoned 
 the prospect of meeting you somewhere : but at this 
 instant (and it is the reason why I did not write to you 
 by return of post) I do not see my way out of the en- 
 circhng whirr of work. — Marie and I rejoice that you 
 should be feehng better and condescending to repose — 
 a good sign of itself. 
 
 Adieu, my dear Fred. Write soon and I will reply. 
 Tell me your scheme. I will come if I can, and meet you, 
 if it doesn't preclude walking somewhat. Nuremberg 
 I have never seen and much want to. By what date is 
 it imperative for you to be in England ? — Your loving 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To John Morley. 
 
 Box Hill, August 10, 1874. 
 My dear Morley, — Pardon me if I have been causing 
 anxiety to the Editorial bosom. Each day that I keep 
 back my MS. I feel capable of cutting out more and more ; 
 and for the present number the more the better, for it 
 will be as well to get over the Venetian scenes in this 
 number as nearly as possible — according to the amount 
 of space you can give me. The chapters are short. — 
 You will see that the 2nd para, of Chapter 4 is composed 
 of the prefatory obser^^ations. I am quite ready to defer 
 to your judgment if you object to them, or to the way in 
 which they are done. — To-morrow morning I send several 
 chapters on to Virtue from Chapman's, and very shortly 
 you shall have a vol. in advance. — I need hardly say 
 how glad I am that you approve of it so far. Maxse 
 writes from Carlsbad that he thinks the beginning ' ex- 
 cellent,' but the public and press may think differently.
 
 248 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 For your sake as well as mine I hope not. M. confesses 
 to feeling very much improved in tone. He wishes me 
 to meet him at the Bel Alp on the 20th. I do not see that 
 it is possible. I have the restless feeling for the moun- 
 tains as actively as ever, but neither time nor purse. — 
 Morison should be coming to me for a day or two, and if 
 he does not I shall fear that things are going ill at Pit- 
 field. The conclusion of ' Compromise ' gives me a bold, 
 healthful, high-reaching Essay, practically a guide to 
 turn to when the heart is weaker than the eye is blind. 
 If, either owing to the casuistry pertaining to the subject, 
 or to the desire for directly applying your meaning, you 
 have missed the philosophical altitudes you love better 
 (I understand Morison to hint at this), you have at least 
 said what no one else dares or can say. I shall re-read 
 it : — Let me add that now and then I have thought you 
 less careful in your style than commonly. It has the 
 good swing, but there are dissonances. That is Uttle, 
 but there are at the same time phrases running with sen- 
 tences that are cast in a tone too purely argumentative 
 for that proper to the essay : showing as it were the 
 want of absolute compression of your own thought in 
 awaiting the objections of an opponent, double -stating 
 it. — I do not quarrel with what I like well, but what I 
 like I wish to see perfect, and I am sure you will over- 
 look a critical habit in me. — Your most faithful 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 Box Hill, August 10, 1874. 
 
 My dear Fred, — Hail, rain, thunder, lightning : — 
 have you anything like this at Carlsbad ? This is our 
 daily entertainment, and I don't dislike it, for it gives 
 fine scenery. — I am glad you like the opening of * Beau-
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 249 
 
 champ.' I am at work cutting down, which will necessi- 
 tate some amount of fresh writing. Chapman urges me 
 for copy, so that he may have an advance lot to forward 
 to America for pay, otherwise he won't get the same, so 
 I am bound to go on with my work, and that fact, besides 
 considerations of the purse, seems to forewarn me I 
 am doomed to remain in harness. I fear so. I cannot 
 say at present, but the outlook is bad. I may be able 
 in Sept. to accomplish a cheap trip of a fortnight to my 
 wife's sister in Dauphiny, for a breath of mountain air. 
 Switzerland gets dim as Leith Hill behind the raincloud. 
 — It is an immense relief and joy to me to think of the 
 chance of your recovery. Perhaps the waters do some- 
 thing, but the seclusion from work and nervous worry 
 is the main secret, I fancy. Next year, if things are 
 favourable with me, I might try Carlsbad myself. Obtain 
 the best general information as to the waters, and let 
 me know how they operate. — By the way, have you read 
 Swinburne's * Bothwell ' ? I am afraid it 's going to be 
 allowed to sink because of its size ; and no doubt there 
 is too much of it, but you at least are one of those who 
 should read and support it. — Morley finishes ' Com- 
 promise,' very good and bold work that cannot but be 
 beneficial. I presume that Morison on the ' Prospects of 
 the Republic in France ' did not please you. The Posi- 
 tivists, he tells me, are howling stiU. It was well written. 
 I am afraid it contains more truth than we care to admit, 
 though none can deny to Gambetta very honourable 
 leadership of late. I have seen one ' Lanterne.' Hum. 
 And read Rochefort's Fortnightly Article. Have you ? 
 Poor stuff. — We want from him an orderly narrative done 
 in a certain grave pitch of tone, not carping criticisms of 
 other men's work. 
 
 I hope to be hearing from you to-morrow, when I may 
 have something to reply to, so I will hold this from the
 
 250 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 post for 24 hours. Jacob sits at my feet, and is my 
 constant companion — a dear little fellow. 
 
 Aug. 11. — Your letter just come : You have not yet 
 received mine dated the 4th, and to which I calculated 
 getting yours of this morning for an answer. — Adieu. 
 I will write again. — Your loving Geoege M. 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 Box Hnx, August 15, 1874. 
 
 My dear Fred, — I write so that you may not be dis- 
 appointed of a letter at Meyringen, and good morning to 
 you on your way to the Bel Alp ! I am finishing a Poem, 
 ' The Nuptials of Attila ' — about forty pages : Jacob 
 at my foot, an accustomed pigeon on the window-sill, 
 bees below humming over some droppings of honeycomb 
 just taken from them. This is pastoral and should con- 
 tent me, yet I wish I were with you, in sight of the Alps. 
 Ziirich I don't much care for, yet to be at Ziirich would 
 enrapture me, — Why should you return 1 — Now I look 
 at my pigeon fronting me, I remark that he is amazingly 
 like a parson. He is on one leg, asleep, his beak in breast, 
 all his feathers oddly ruffled to swell his size, and an eye 
 turned on me like the eye of Falstaff heeling over with 
 excess of Sherris. Sa3^ a Bishop. — When I was staying 
 with my wife's sister last June we dined one evening 
 with the rector of the place. He said to me : ' Do you 
 think it true that there is a portrait of Jesus Christ 
 extant ? ' — ' Of Nazareth ? ' said I. He blinked faintly 
 like my sleepy pigeon. ' Certainly of Nazareth.' — ' Oh ! 
 no, then,' said I. * But it is affirmed that there is an 
 authentic portrait of the Virgin his Mother.' ' Could one 
 trust it ? ' he asked me with a supplication in the tone. 
 * Decidedly not,' said I. He was (to make use of one of
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 251 
 
 their distinctions) High Church. One may be high and 
 not see far. And now good-night, Fred. Write from 
 Bel Alp. — Where you also will be high and not see so far 
 as me, I dare say. — Your envious George M. 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 Box Hill, Dorking, Sept. 3, 1874. 
 
 My dear Fred, — I am reminded by Jacob von Hom- 
 burg that you pass through Geneva on the 5th, and there 
 is just time for me to despatch you a greeting. I know 
 the disappointment of not getting a letter when one calls 
 at a foreign post office. — Wind S.E. with rain. For a 
 week we have had fine S.W. skies : yesterday was quite 
 v/onderful with scaling clouds. I went up the hill with 
 Will and his mother and sister (Jacob of course) and we 
 flew a kite and dreamed. It was on the whole as good 
 as Switzerland while it lasted, but it was not the shaking 
 up of Alpine walks and the freshening of mountain air. 
 This is what I want and find I certainly can't get before 
 next year. The more I look at Beauchamp the more 
 I see that the work must be almost redone — at least to 
 suit my taste. — Tyndall's Belfast address you have seen, 
 no doubt. It has roused the Clergy, Fred. They warned 
 away from science ? They excluded from the chief works 
 of God and told to confine themselves to the field of the 
 emotions ! They affirm that Tyndall is an atheist, and 
 would dare to say he is already damned if the age were 
 in a mood to hear that language. The man or the country 
 t])at fights priestcraft and priests is to my mind striking 
 deeper for freedom than can be struck anywhere at 
 present. I foresee a perilous struggle with them. So 
 far I am heartily with Bismarck. — I want you to note 
 for mo what sort of weather you have had on the days 
 when I recorded our weather here. I am noting as far
 
 252 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 as I can the general prevalence of the S. Westers at this 
 period. Scptr. is commonly a fine Swiss month ; whether 
 it shares our luck at aU is what I want to learn. France, 
 I find, has usually our weather in Spring, and not in 
 Autumn. — I shall see you soon. The folly of your coming 
 back affects me strangely. Necessity would have to pull 
 hard to fetch me to these shores, had I choice of Switzer- 
 land or Italy. Write when you return — and come here. 
 — Your loving George Meredith. 
 
 To John Morley. 
 
 Box Hill, Dorking, Nov. 19, 1874. 
 
 My dear Morley, — I gave you your ' mouth of freedom 
 from editorial cares,' thinking it might be wanted for a 
 holiday on tough desk- work, then fearing that a personal 
 affliction, to which I could not minister, urged you to 
 keep aloof. I am very glad to have your letter. When 
 Maxse saw you before you started he thought you were 
 looking ruddily weU — chubbily : so writing at least 
 agrees with you. Yours is the better way. Public life, 
 if only one can keep up to the mark of it, and know when 
 to abandon it, is the wholesomest. You get most wis- 
 dom out of it : and it is the only path to follow to know 
 oneself. Hermit philosophers are soon seen following 
 the fancy as much as infants, but it is not so pretty a 
 fancy. — I assume that objections are not yet raised 
 against Beauchamp, because I have not yet had a sneer 
 from Chapman. As far as I have seen, the Weekly 
 Commentators are disposed to leave it alone, and I 
 would rather have them do so. — Absolute re-writing I 
 find to be my lamentable task for the whole of it ! 
 
 The Essay on Compromise was put in my hands the 
 other day in Piccadilly. I hold it a brave good book to 
 take counsel with. The work on ' Supernatural Religion '
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 253 
 
 comes in the way of my re-reading it immediately — thanks 
 to your article, and another (yours, it struck me) in the 
 Pall Mall — I feel to the writer as we used to towards our 
 big boy champion against the bullies at school : that is, 
 I admire, beheve in him, feel that it is my fight, but can 
 aid only very little — by gesticulation chiefly. He is a 
 splendid fellow. Hitherto we have pined for one who 
 should unite profound scholarship and cimning of fence. 
 I like his unhasting equability of tone. I am near the 
 end of the 1st volume, and long to get to the summing 
 up. — You did well by ' Both well ' in ' Macmillan.' I 
 spoke of the article to the more than Scotchman, his 
 partner ^ — the coarser bran or pure porridge Scotchman. 
 ' Hegh, don't ye know the writer of it ? ' said he, and 
 scotched your name. — The other night I saw Irving in 
 Hamlet, a great pleasure that I should like to hear of 
 your having. He hstened to my criticism next day, 
 and no doubt I thought the better of his Hamlet after- 
 wards, but it is good acting. . . . — Your ever faithful 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 I remember — I had certain things to say of Mil upon 
 * Nature,' but must defer it. I rejoice that you speak 
 with regret of the weak spot elsewhere. 
 
 To Frederick Chxenwood. 
 
 Box Hill, Dorbsng, Last Day of '74. 
 My dear Greenwood, — Though you are rapidly 
 becoming insubstantial to me as well as elusive, like the 
 very spark in the burnt sheet of my rejected manuscript, 
 I believe in you still and will wish New Year's happiness 
 to an Editor so deep in his retirement as to be but the 
 animating spirit of a newspaper. Do you ever think of 
 
 ^ George Lillie Craik.
 
 254 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 mo ? Ever imagine how much an hour of you calls me 
 up ? Do you read a bit of Beauchamp ? I have a portion 
 of it under me to compress and rekindle, and words can't 
 say what a dole of criticism from you (with an interjection 
 or two on the right side) would do to animate the finish. 
 Do you lunch at the Garrick ? Sometimes I see you 
 glowing tlirough the bars of the Pall Mall, roguish as 
 Holbein's Harry 8tli Jester at Hampton Court, or awful 
 as Eblis with the fire at his heart. But I see you only 
 in brilliant dots, like a score of devil's music played to a 
 dyspeptic at night, to haunt him for the remainder of 
 his term, integral no more. 
 
 Let nonsense be no more. Men grow grave. Editors 
 most of all. I am troubled about various outlooks for 
 the country, and do hope you will be at work on the 
 subject of a conscription — your own subject years back. 
 Our stiff-necked people must pass under this yoke. 
 
 Some day I shall call for a talk of five minutes. Mean- 
 time I salute you with all my heart. 
 
 To Captain Maxse. 
 
 Box Hill, Jan, 13, 1875. 
 
 My dearest Fred, — Your letter sti-uck hke a shaft of 
 sunhght into my bath yesterday morning, and the con- 
 tents appear to me very good. Movement and bracing 
 air — these are the specifics. I have such a vision of 
 your pinewoods that they will henceforth be one of my 
 points of attraction. How delightful to roam through 
 them with your boys ! — I assume that the little chaps 
 picked up at once on landing. 
 
 Our frost broke up the night you started, and a rising 
 wind made me think of you. 
 
 I doubt if there will be any fresh matter this month ; 
 Morley gave only two chapters last month. No doubt
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 255 
 
 you will be back with the boys for their schooling before 
 the further proofs require attention ; but I shall hear 
 from you and the proofs shall fly to you wherever you 
 are. — Did you see in the ' Times ' a letter of a delicious 
 Bishop reproving Auberon Herbert upon the subject of 
 Prayer : Assuring us, in large type, that God answers 
 it, upon the example of the human physician to whom 
 we cry for aid, and are answered. The proof of a spiritual 
 response from the instance of the material one is finely 
 episcopal. The ' Times ' printed no reply to my Lord 
 Bishop. — Your loving George Meredith. 
 
 To Frederick Jones. 
 
 Box Hill, Jan. 23, 1875. 
 
 My dear Jones, — It 's I who am the delinquent : 
 Marie will not touch the pen to tell it. The truth is, I 
 am so tied down to work at this period that I cannot hope 
 to spare two days for pleasure before the end of February. 
 Blame, but pity me, and that will bring you round to the 
 right feeling. Besides, our Babsie is only just flinging 
 off a catarrh, and I feel tlireatened with it, yet must drive 
 my quiU. 
 
 Consider, however, you, that the Birthdays occur on 
 the 10th and 12th of next month. Will you come on 
 the 10th to celebrate Marie's ? Once you did. Be that 
 admirable man and wife again ! You will make us 
 happy. And then can be settled the time of our visit 
 to you. I have long been wishing to see you and make 
 you know my sympathy for you in the blows that have 
 struck you heavily through the year. They have been 
 a grief to us, beheve me. 
 
 I do hope you will come on the 10th. Write to me 
 pardoning me and heaping anthracite on my head (a 
 costly matter in these days) by the promise that in spite
 
 256 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 of my breaches of faith you can be generous. Willie 
 will be so happy to see Ethel, He shall have a holiday 
 for that day. Give my warmest regards to Mrs. Jones 
 — dashed by no cynicism of your own : and to Miss Jones : 
 and my love to Bright-hair. — Your faithfullest 
 
 Geokge Meredith. 
 
 To John Morley. 
 
 Box Hill, April 12, 1875. 
 
 My dear Morley, — ^Your letter written at Trier was 
 a delightful surprise to me. On the Sunday following 
 we imagined you at Rheims, gave you to the Sainted 
 Joan for an hour, compared the wheels of your mind with 
 the ceremonials of the Cathedral, and finally deposited 
 you in Paris, where for your good health I trust you may 
 even still be. I am anxious to see you here, but this 
 weather allows of no forecast of when. Let me hear of 
 your return. It would (weather permitting and your 
 work) be pleasant to have your appreciation of some of 
 the upper Frenchmen while it is new. I feel like the one 
 who ' ploughs with pain his native lea.' I go nowhere, 
 see, hear, know nothing. — Yes, I went to see Salvini on 
 Friday. Saturday gave the newspaper criticism, and 
 after observing the true and only Othello, you should have 
 read them ! Faint, prim, puling exceptions to this and 
 that : Like political England they want peace — not to 
 be disturbed. They harp on Othello's ' Tenderness.' 
 Do you perceive much of it in reading the play ? — one 
 of the finest in action of Shakespeare, lowest of the great 
 plays in conception. — Yours ever warmly, 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To John Morley. 
 
 Box Hill, June 29, 1875. 
 
 My dear Morley, — ^Most foul ! But postponements, 
 as you justly remind me, destroy the integrity of men,
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 257 
 
 and the ruins of our appointment fall in a heap on the 
 next, and down we shall go into the dark and unknown 
 vast if we do not lay tight hold of the nearest branch, 
 and swear — 
 
 All or nothing ! I can't endure your coming for only 
 a night and two bits of days : a Thursday without head 
 and a Friday without bottom. TeU me that though all 
 London should crave for you open-mouthed, you come on 
 Wednesday week, not to leave us at least before Friday. 
 But don't be due anywhere till that week is done. 
 
 Come on Wednesday in time for a French breakfast in 
 the garden about I past 11. You have no idea how nice 
 it is. We tried it on Sunday with three good men and 
 an ancient Hock, and I assure you, that staid and formal 
 day danced to its end like an ecclesiastic that has re- 
 ceived the promise of a bishopric. Say, then, Wednesday 
 week, and here before | past 11. Haply we shall have 
 majestic July weather. Write, bind thyself. From me 
 and mine to you and yours all sweet greetings ! — Yours, 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To John Morley. 
 
 Box Hill, July 1, 1875. 
 
 My dear Morley, — We stipulate for you, that we are 
 not to expect you in soaking weather. 
 
 Because (and here lies the sting of it, only to be obliter- 
 ated by our welcome of you) you come so rarely that we 
 are anxious to make a great occasion of it : great, not 
 grand, and much radiancy is required of the heavens 
 when that you do come. Therefore should July continue 
 to squeeze a sponge, again postpone. But if it promises 
 fair on Tuesday, tell me at what early hour (wTiting on 
 Tuesday, with a calculating eye aloft) I may go to the 
 Station to meet you and bring you to 
 
 The Breakfast. 
 
 VOL. L — K
 
 258 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 I wish I knew of conversible fellows to ask to meet 
 you. One can meet, I am told, remarkable characters, 
 but the speechful, the reciprocating, the sunny and un- 
 presumptuous, who speak from the healthy breast of 
 that dear Mother of us, the Moment, — where are they to 
 be foimd ? 
 
 I have looked, I forgot to tell you, at Tennyson's 
 ' Queen Mary,' and I had great pleasure of my reading. I 
 saw no trace of power, but the statehness, the fine tone, 
 the high tone, of some passages, hit me hard. Curiously 
 too, in him, the prose is crisp, salient, excellent. The 
 Songs, if we had not Shakespeare's to show what are not 
 literary forcings to catch a theme to point a comparison, 
 would do. As it is, ' Milking the cow ' smells of milking 
 the brain. Mary's ' Low-low ' is an instance of public 
 consciousness — ^before Victoria's people. — But the work 
 seems to me to be good, and how glad I am to have it 
 of him ! — Your faithful George Meredith. 
 
 To John Morley. 
 
 Box Hill, August 12, 1875. 
 
 My dear Morley, — I must write now, though I have 
 little time to give a faint sketch of what I have to say of 
 ' Rousseau.' It has moved me as few books have done. 
 I had but a poor knowledge, from never having read a 
 compact history of this period when Wit, Science and 
 Sentiment contended, and the latter, which was to fade 
 before the other two, struck an unsoimd Age with the 
 ring of the ultimate Truth. Rousseau was the very 
 key-note. — ^You have handled him with consummate 
 mastery : and none can loiow the trial you have sus- 
 tained better than he who as I do penetrates to the man, 
 hating this in him, warming to that, alternately, in- 
 cessantly. But here is one of the most curious and one 
 of the grandest problems of humanity, which you have
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 259 
 
 handled perfectly. How unjust I was to the printed 
 portion in the ' Fortnightly ' ! Or may one be pardoned 
 for not having seen the fulness of the work there ? I 
 did not discredit you for style (excepting a point or two), 
 but exactly for that which I find in the book — mastery 
 of every note of that evasive heart, and a power of showing 
 the Heroic coward complete in his contradictions. To 
 my mind it is — and it will be to me — one of the most 
 precious of studies. It is one of the wisest of books. 
 For such is the nature of Rousseau that his notes are the 
 deepest and highest within the scale of philosophy, and 
 the very lowest. But (with an exception or two to be 
 named when I meet you, and soon, and here, I hope) 
 you touch all equably, delicately, fillingly, with volume 
 where needful. — I cannot exhaust my admiration. I 
 am at times electrified by companion ideas of my own.^ — 
 To me the study has a charm that flings off monotony. 
 Speaking critically for the multitude (in the manner of 
 modem criticism) monotony is a character of the subject 
 and the book : wherefore it has not been popular. And 
 with reviewers 3 things present and one absent were 
 required : Competency of knowledge, quick sympathy 
 for the shifting marvellous creature your theme, a com- 
 prehension of the mystery of what we are — and no pre- 
 judice. The little g for G was turned on you heavily. — 
 But such a fate befalling a book like this should be con- 
 solation, as to rewards for value, to novehsts and pigmies. 
 Can you by chance come to us next week ? It will 
 delight me infinitely. I have to talk over Rousseau with 
 you, much to say. I made no marks, but I will at whiles, 
 and meantime I remember enough to occupy us. — Your 
 faithfuUest George Meredith. 
 
 J j; Mr. John Dennis tells how, sitting in the Garrick Club in 
 the early hours of the morning, Meredith told him he had
 
 260 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 composed an address to Carlyle on his eightieth birthday. 
 This he wrote down and gave to Mr. Dennis. 
 
 To Carlyle 
 
 Garrick Club. 
 
 This eightieth year of thine sits crowned in hght 
 
 To hft our England from her fleshly mire : 
 
 Two generations view thee as a fire 
 
 Whence they have drawn what burns in them most 
 
 bright : 
 For thou hast bared the roots of life with sight 
 Piercing ; in language stronger than the lyre : 
 And thou hast shown the way must man aspire, 
 Is through the old sweat and anguish Adamite, 
 As at the first. Unsweet might seem his fate. 
 Sole with a spade between the stars of earth ! — 
 Giving much labour for his little mirth, 
 And soldier-service till he fail to strike : 
 But such thine was, and thine to contemplate 
 Shall quicken young ambition for the like. 
 
 George M. 
 
 To Miss Alice Brandreth.^ 
 
 Box Hill, Feb. 11, 1876. 
 Wife being absent, I could find 
 Nought to say to Rosalind. 
 She returns, and swift as wind 
 Now I write to Rosalind. 
 — ^Your Orlando, reared as hind. 
 Was fit mate for Rosalind. 
 (When his manners were refined) 
 He had youth like Rosalind. 
 
 * In reply to an invitation from hor to read the part of Bassanio in 
 the Merchant of Venice. See footnote (2) page 264.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 261 
 
 — Shall a man in grey declined 
 Seem the same for Rosalind ? 
 Yea, though merely aged in rind. 
 Is he worthy Rosalind ? 
 This in grave debate should bind 
 Parliaments and Rosalind. 
 — Still if captious, wayward, blind, 
 And the rest of 't, Rosalind 
 Should insist, — if to her mind 
 (If she have one) Rosalind 
 Thinks me (if to thought inclined 
 Ever), I with Rosalind 
 (And I say it, having dined, 
 Slept and dreamed of Rosalind) 
 I will do my best ; and kind 
 Prove our audience, Rosalind ! 
 Take these words for treaty signed 
 — No Orlando, Rosalind ! 
 But a man with wrinkles lined, 
 Vows to read with Rosalind. 
 
 To Frederick Greemvood. 
 
 Box Hill, March 9, 1876. 
 
 My dear GE,EE]sr\vooD, — Don't laugh at my simplicity : 
 I 'm treating you as if you really meant to come. And 
 who knows ? Faith has been rewarded and un faith 
 astounded before now. We have a fine South-Wester 
 blowing, likely to hold on for some days. Will you come 
 this Saturday early ? — or will it hit you better to appoint 
 the next ? I have written it, you see, with the lovely 
 gravity I can assume. Still, if you do come I shall 
 celebrate the event and make a date of it. Jupiter, they 
 say, in his Godly irony grants mortals their wishes. I 
 don't believe in the irony, but I do in accidents, and that
 
 262 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 now and then a loaf tumbles out of Jupiter's bread basket. 
 tumble, come ! I 've a great appetite for you. 
 
 To John MorUy. 
 
 Box Hill, March 28, 1876. 
 
 My dear Morley, — For some time I have been enter- 
 taining myself with the notion that you went with the 
 Governor-General to Rome and Naples, and so could 
 not give me a chance of seeing you here. You partly 
 proposed for February ! Will there be a likelihood of 
 it in April ? You know the pleasure and refreshment it 
 is to me. — I am busy, idly busy with verse : unable to 
 let go forth that which ought not to have so much time 
 wasted on it, therefore discontented with the work and 
 myself. Your voice would brace me. What is it occupies 
 you ? Hard work, if you have not been absent, but what 
 kind of work ? I am particularly curious to read you 
 this month, on the question of Empress, and as to how 
 you interpret Disraeli's speeches. Is it a genial contempt 
 for the House, or dotage ? does he laugh at the gentiles, 
 or but flounder before them 1 I fancy the answer to be 
 that he is heartily sick of the task his Imperial mistress 
 imposed on him at a moment when he did not know the 
 English people so well. 
 
 For the rest Radicalism will have nothing to regret in 
 the passing of the Bill. 
 
 To John Morley, 
 
 Box Hill, Afril 12, 1876. 
 
 My dear Morley, — ^The essay on Macaulay is masterly, 
 perfectly balanced, clear, sound, delightful with apt 
 expression in the dehvery of a just sentence. I find this 
 fault : I do not think it right that you should ' stumble '
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 263 
 
 on the quotation concerning Tickell and Addison, where- 
 with to oppose Macaulay to Southey, when you have just 
 given the latter at his best. We all go with you in your 
 verdict, only in a literary sense we feel that you are below 
 your own mark here for an instant. — Of course you are 
 not comparing him with Southey, but casting light on 
 his style from the first lamp to hand. All the more 
 however does it seem to me that you should in such a case 
 be careful of your selection of an example, which you 
 may well cry horror and thrice horror upon, as it stands 
 where you have placed it, and which is yet inoffensive 
 enough in its natural place. Nay, here I should defend 
 the style of Macaulay, on whom I see the advocate's 
 wig while I hear him thumping excusably in the ad- 
 vocate's manner to defend those two. Detestable as is 
 the iterated blow on ' villany,' it is only so as old Bailey 
 eloquence is so, and appears to be vehement with the 
 good object of wresting life or character from a stupid 
 Jury. But if you had apposed some description of 
 William or Luxembourg or Marlborough, I should have 
 been better satisfied. — On this point I feel so sm'e, that 
 I am anxious you should consider about it before you 
 repubhsh the essay. And I will not ask pardon of a 
 great writer and student for drawing attention to what 
 looks but little. 
 
 A minor defect, of a kind that I will direct your eye to 
 in Rousseau, is at ' blaze and glare,' or amplification in 
 language which is not an extension of the idea or forti- 
 fication of the image. There will be a glare if there 
 is a blaze, but that is nothing compared with the twice 
 insisted-upon harshness of sound, in consideration that it 
 is not necessary twice. — So fair is your work to me that 
 I am persecuted by such generally imperceptible specks 
 on it. 
 
 Enclosed is a poem of 3 verses for the ' Fortnightly,'
 
 264 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 if you think it worthy.^ If you can find the Sonnet to 
 Carlyle I shall be glad : I am not sure of my memory. — 
 Ever your faithfullest George Meredith. 
 
 To Mrs. Brandreih. 
 
 Box Hnx. Dorking, 
 April 13, 1876. 
 
 Dear Mrs. Brandreth, — . . . Please to ask my dear 
 Beatrice — Rosalind — Katherine that I bear in mind the 
 scheme of writing a play for her. Also she should in 
 loyalty be informed that the Professor ^ has been largely 
 corresponding with me. He starts (so was the latest 
 announcement) on the 15th and threatens that when at 
 Baltimore he will bring his whole mathematical force 
 to bear upon the Governors of the Hopkins University 
 to make them invite me with honours to act as his col- 
 league in the shape of lecturer on Poetry and Rhetoric. 
 Thus you see he will insist on having one of us ; I have 
 lived near to the Rose, so am sweet to him. — I beg to be 
 remembered to Mr. Brandreth and Katherine, and I am 
 ever your most faithful and devoted 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To John Morley. 
 
 Box Hnx, AugiLst 15, 1876. 
 
 My dear Morley, — Receive my thanks for the bag 
 of golden grain. I am chained here for a time : in a 
 few days I take Will to Pitfield ^ to find comrades with the 
 boy and girls there, previous to his departure to school. 
 Perhaps (for the truth is known to you, so I may as well 
 confess it : the * harvesters ' are terrific : I am spotted 
 
 1 * A Ballad of Past Meridian.' 
 
 * Professor Sylvester, the eminent mathematician, who took part in 
 many Shakespeare readings at Mrs. Brandreth's and had printed verses 
 of several hundreds of rhymes to Rosalind. 
 
 ' James Cotter Morison at this time had Pitfield.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 265 
 
 red mounds, I smile disdainfully at the voluptuousness 
 that is not largely composed of scratching : I am raw : 
 therefore there can be no chance of seeing you here 
 before October) perhaps, then, I might come to you for 
 a day on my way to Hawkhurst, if I go there ; and there 
 is some thought of it. No mountains for me this year. 
 But the talk I get with you is mountain atmosphere to 
 the soul. — I have read your ' Robespierre.' It sent me 
 to Carlyle. He bears the re-reading. Still that kind of 
 thing wiU not do. It is our only History of the French 
 Revolution, and is in as much disorder as the Paris of 
 Danton. Evidently this is your work to be done. — 
 Have you not trimmed your style ? The sentences are 
 more compressed, not at such stretch. The ' picturing ' 
 of Robespierre seems to me the best that could be done 
 in prose ; sober, acute : the mind being all round him 
 while the finger is upon him. You do not condemn, do 
 not apologise for him, you explain him : and also the 
 time. The critical and the narrative power now go 
 well hand in hand. A little further predominance to 
 the latter, will make yours the finest of historical styles : 
 and as there cannot be a theme more spacious to imagina- 
 tion than the French Revolution, I commend you to it 
 for a few years to come. I wish it lay as clear before 
 me, as open to my capacity. — I shall be glad of the 2nd 
 Part of your study. — Harrison has written to me of a 
 mid-way meeting for a walk ; and written again, fearful 
 of Phoebus' beams. I am more fearful of rousing the 
 ire of the God by appearing to shun them ; I climb the 
 hills of mint and thyme, and can compare myself only 
 to the Leg of Mutton stewing in herbs a sept heures. 
 To say I sweat is to say an angel is holy. I am trans- 
 figured in my original elements — fire and water. — I won't 
 talk of the East : I should run to the length of 2 leaders. 
 I am compelled to be quite against my instincts. I
 
 266 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 cannot think very much of the Servians. As to Christian 
 against Turk ; — to talk in old Tory fashion, the Turk's 
 rehgion is that of a gentleman by comparison. The 
 Christian is intended to be Russia's catspaw. Yet of 
 course one sees that a nation canceled by the Hareem 
 must be extinguished : it cannot live when it has ceased 
 to live in camp and takes to the Hareem for a diversion. 
 Where women are women but for the bed, there is dis- 
 solution, brain and heart paralysis, — Yes, Beaconsfield ! 
 — ^You were wonderfully good in allowing my ballad ^ to 
 run to that length : I was ashamed, and yet I had to exer- 
 cise restraint to keep back more verses. I will not press 
 you, but you shall tell me if you are inclined to have other 
 samples of my stores ; and if not, be sure I cannot take 
 offence. — One who would fain see you again — Oswald 
 Crawfurd — asked warmly of you the other day. I heard 
 of a lady who wanted to fortify herself in her manner 
 of educating a son and bought ' Compromise,' which 
 strengthened her. This laurel to you — a prouder than 
 poet's ! Adieu. I wish it were this evening or to-morrow 
 we were to meet ! 
 
 To Miss Alice Brandreth. 
 
 Box Hnx, August 20, 1876. 
 
 My dear Miss Brandreth, — This is to send you on 
 your way with the assurances that we poor abandoned 
 souls look for your return ^ — with the boots of Kazan ! 
 (large sized feet). The spelling of your letter shows 
 carefulness. But what do you mean by ' sitting, nor 
 taking in much beside the rhythm ' ? Do you mean, in 
 addition to ? or next neighbour to ? I am sure you enjoy 
 that heavenly delight of young London ladies in soUtude, 
 
 ^ ' A Ballad of Fair Ladies in Revolt.' 
 
 * Miss Alice Brandreth was starting with her mother and father for 
 Russia, Mr. Brandreth being one of the English delegates at the 
 Oriental Congress hold in St. Petersbuig in September 1876.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 267 
 
 which consists in the poetic contemplation of themselves 
 as looked on by the eternal hills : and to think you in- 
 capable of this exquisite reverie is to be unjust to you. — 
 One topic of a serious letter to you would be the fate of 
 those Russian Professors : for it has been remarked of 
 you, that the professor is your natural prey ; that you 
 cannot but make him incandescent, and are almost irre- 
 sponsible in the fatality you exercise. But to say this 
 much is to elevate and dignify you at the cost of your 
 immortal nature. Wherefore I would adjure you (since 
 these sclavic professors are desperate men) to commence 
 your conversation with them by asking each : ' Do you 
 keep pistols and powder ? ' smiling as you ask it, and 
 speaking with that artlessness which has done for every 
 man Jack of a professor in old England. Should they 
 wish to know why you ask, explain to them of course 
 that you are anxious for their brains. 
 
 As to the Drama : it is ill-conceived as yet. I have 
 been very busy : what I want is to lie fallow for a week, 
 and I can't see the week. Pecks of poetry have been 
 coming from me. Hovrever I will bear in mind that you 
 wish the thing done. — May fair weather attend you ! 
 I desire you to present my compliments to your father 
 and mother, and tell them, I pray, that my vows are 
 most heartily offered for the comfort of their journey, 
 and against the prediction that the drift of the Oriental 
 Congress will be to Constantinople. Adieu : my wife 
 would send the warmest messages were she presiding 
 over this pen. — Your faithfullest George Meredith. 
 
 To John Morley. 
 
 Box Hill, Sept. 8, 1876. 
 
 My dear Morley, — We must by the nature of the 
 case be fixtures in the Hat-box. My pavilion ^ is in course 
 
 ^ The chalet in the garden.
 
 268 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 of edification to receive me. But hear my proposal : 
 There is an old farm-house, long-windowed, red-bricked, 
 Elizabethan, just far enough from us to ensure you the 
 sense of solitude, near enough to make it possible to meet : 
 South-west of Dorking : between the chalk hills and the 
 sand, set in lovely rolling country : with the moral 
 attraction to you that George Eliot has resided there ; 
 backed by a pinewood that was sown by Heaven's hand 
 for contemplation's mood : and this used to be let for 
 4 guineas per week. Shall I walk to it and see if it is 
 open ? Or better, will you come down and visit it with 
 me ? It is about 2| miles from Dorking on the road to 
 Guildford. I think this a most excellent proposal. — Let 
 me add that our cottage would be for you at any price, 
 were it at all in our plans to move. — I shall hope to hear 
 from you. Harrison was here yesterday. We are of 
 one mind in admiration of ' Robespierre.' But he thinks 
 you are almost too scathing of Disraeli. — Your faith- 
 fullest George Meredith. 
 
 To John Morley. 
 
 Box Hill, Seft, 13, 1876. 
 
 My dear Morley, — There is no moving Marie ; here 
 she must wait, and sorely against her wish. We have 
 no wishes left, but are the instruments of fate. 
 
 The more to confound me, the Rookery Farm is let 
 up to the end of October. 
 
 To-morrow I take our dear old Will to his first taste 
 of School — at Ewell, under a certain Dr. Behr, one time 
 a master at Winchester, well recommended to me ; and 
 I like the look of the establishment. — This reminds me, 
 Mrs. Harrison told me it was the Admiral's Mr. Lake, the 
 * free-thinking ' schoolmaster of his boys, who wrote in 
 the ' Spectator ' concerning you. Ahem. — Behr simply
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 269 
 
 assures me that no more than the common doses of theo- 
 logy will be given, and with that I must be satisfied. 
 I do not think it well to be howking about the beds where 
 younkers grow, to clip their roots and precipitate the 
 natural acerbities in any given direction. Young 
 sceptics will hardly avoid being young cynics. I burn 
 for converse with you. — Very busy with poems. — Your 
 ever faithful George Meredith. 
 
 To Miss Alice Brandrelh. 
 
 Box Hill, Nov. 3, 1876. 
 
 My dear Miss Brandreth, — I know Palgrave Simpson, 
 — am very fond of him, and believe he will do anything 
 for me, until he knows you, when he will be subject to a 
 new allegiance. If you and I do not clash, therefore, 
 you may count on him. I will see him or write to him. 
 He is of ripe age, turned of 70, very handsome, and with 
 a consuming passion for the stage ; and the dear heart 
 of him so frankly nourisha,ble by flattery that he will 
 open his mouth and shut his eyes and take it in a ladle, 
 so he will exactly suit you. 
 
 How I do dislike (in the abstract) men of a certain 
 age who pretend to refuse their spoonful, and all the 
 while their honest old lips are dribbling at the corners : 
 as to the coming to town, let me come on the Thursday 
 of the week after the one your Mother suggests : and 
 go on Friday. One night of London. And besides I 
 am very busy and shall get no work done for next year 
 if I cease to lash myself, and I am disturbed about my 
 lecture 1 and doubt if it will please. If you are moved to 
 do Idndness, have my wife the day before I come and 
 whisk her away to music or the play. For my part I 
 don't like to leave my baby gal alone in the house for 
 
 1 < 
 
 On the Idea of Comedy.'
 
 270 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 more than one night — one does not matter. My wife 
 will write to your mother. I beg you to remember me 
 warmly to your father and Mother both, and believe me 
 for life your devoted servant and lord, 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To Mrs. Brandreth. 
 
 Box Hill, Nov. 14, 1876. 
 
 Dear Mrs. Brandreth, — To sit with you all three 
 and hear of your tour and of the long leashes of the 
 Russian Professors reduced by Miss Brandreth to a state 
 of spiritual serfage, would be delightful, and what I have 
 hoped for : but so it chances, I am under plight of 
 promise to go to Brighton to my friend Mr. Morley on 
 
 Thursday, and this involves Friday. — I think Miss 
 
 ought to be informed that our poor sample of a Professor 
 
 the grey prodigious in rhyming power, returned to 
 
 England during her absence — alas ! for him — and was 
 seen at the Athenaeum. I am told that he did not 
 remain long — as why should the unhappy man, the sun 
 being as distant and veiled as in the Black Season at the 
 North Pole. 
 
 I hear from Eva that ]\Iiss Brandreth will make an 
 entry into our valley some time this month. How grand 
 it would have been in the Boots of Kazan ! But in any 
 form it will be a wonderful refreshment to us. Please to 
 give my very warm regards to Mr. Brandreth, and my 
 cordial salutes to my Katherine (tamed), and believe me 
 your most faithful and devoted George Meredith. 
 
 To John Morley. 
 
 Saturday. 
 
 Dearest M., — One hne. All went well.^ Morison in 
 one of his enthusiasms — which make one remember 
 
 ' A lecture, ' On the Idea of Comedy and the Uses of the Comic Spirit,' 
 delivered at the London Institution, February 1, 1877.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 271 
 
 that one has word praise. Audience very attentive and 
 indulgent. Time 1 h. 25 m. and no one left the hall, so 
 that I may imagine there was interest in the lecture. 
 Pace moderate : but Morison thinks I was intelligible 
 chiefly by the distinctness of articulation. 
 
 To Miss Alice Brandreth. 
 
 Box Hill, Feb. 28, 1877. 
 
 My dear Miss Brandreth, — I have too much work 
 to be in town to-morrow, and my promise to myself to 
 go to Dannreuther's concert next time, was but my way 
 of saying how much I liked the last. Otherwise the 
 pleasure of being led there by you would be, as it were, 
 to be prepared by a poet to sit with the Muses. I know 
 you will be in full sympathy with one who chances to 
 have said more than he meant ; and indeed you should 
 be ; for by and by (yes, it must be so) a certain door will 
 have to be broken open and a room laid bare with many 
 Tops in it, the humming and the peg, each with his history 
 of ONE who spun him — and now ? — so innocently ! in 
 my Dannreuther fashion on that occasion I shall come 
 forward to plead for you. — Your very devoted 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To Miss Alice Brandreth. 
 
 Gordon, Jim, 
 
 Life and Limb 
 
 Risking, 'cause it is his whim, 
 
 Hounds to f oiler. 
 
 Breaks his collar- 
 
 Bone while giving a view-holler. 
 
 Ain't this news ? 
 
 What 's more it 's true, 
 
 Then in bed the poor lad stews ;
 
 272 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 His neck twirliiig 
 
 Mr. Curling 
 
 Straight has set like surgeon sterling.^ 
 
 George IVIeredith. 
 
 To John Morley. 
 
 Box Hill, March 31, 1877. 
 
 My dear Morley, — We have now a bedroom to offer 
 you and your wife. Will you come ? And can you 
 come before the 13th April ? It will rejoice us to see 
 you, and refresh me. 
 
 Remember that it is your habit peremptorily to cry 
 against invitations in harvest-Bug-time. Therefore we 
 think you due to us now. 
 
 And I want you to see my cottage — annexe — 
 chalet on the terrace. I think you will agree with me, 
 that it is the prettiest to be foxind, the view is without 
 a match in Surrey. The interior full of light, which 
 can be moderated ; and while surrounded by firs, I look 
 over the slope of our green hill to the ridges of Leith, 
 round to Ranmore, and the half of Norbury. 
 
 I have the hope that if you can come you will. Let 
 it be Both of you. 
 
 I am very busy, doing little, but doing it diligently, 
 which you know to mean well. 
 
 The article on Comedy is out : cursed with misprints 
 that make me dance gadfly-bitten. 
 
 I am greatly taken with Goldwin Smith's article, I 
 could not have written it, but the idea has been mine. 
 
 Trollope's art. on Cicero shows him to have a feeling 
 for his hero. It reads curiously as though he were ad- 
 dressing a class of good young men. This is the effect 
 of the style, or absence of style. One likes him for 
 
 * James Edward Henry Gordon, a pioneer oloctrical engineer and a 
 hard rider to hounds. He married Miss Alice Brandreth.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 273 
 
 working in that mine : only, — and yet I like a certain 
 kind of open-mindedness. By the way, in the last 
 book noticed (by Garnett, is it ?), I find ' By the first 
 Hving Italian poet.' The possible English of this is, that 
 the preceding have been dead ones. Garnett has not to 
 be taught English, but here is an example of the bad 
 effect of writing much for journals. ' First of Hving Ital. 
 poets,' he means. 
 
 my dear Morley, come if only you can, for you are 
 a great delight to me when I see you. My wife is in 
 the cottage below, or she would send messages to yours. 
 
 To Admiral Maxse} 
 
 Box Hill, March 31, 1877. 
 
 My dear Adiniiiial, — I can't but admire IMrs. Besant 
 for her courage. On the whole I must approve the 
 pubhcation, though to me the book is repulsive. I have 
 a senseless shrinking from it. More horrible scenes of 
 animal life can hardly be suggested. They effectually 
 deprive me of appetite. The male — the female. Lord 
 God! 
 
 Your remarks on Odger were very good, I was glad 
 to see them. 
 
 You tallv of a Surrey walk. Once more you flash the 
 old delusive flag of a hohday before me. Why do you 
 not come ? I am here. I have not removed from here 
 for several years. — Yours ever warmly, 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 By the way, I am in my Chalet : well worth a visit. 
 The second room of it contains the hammock-cot : 
 enviable the sleeper therein ! 
 
 ^ Captain Maxse was promoted Rear- Admiral in 1877. 
 VOL. I. — S
 
 274 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 To John Morley. 
 
 Box Hill, A-pril 4. 
 
 My dear Morley, — May, then ! 
 
 But let not this be one of your lyrical postponements 
 to a phantasm appointment : the most delusive gilded 
 thing that ever danced between Box Hill and Brighton. 
 
 . . . There are horrid errors in the printing of the 
 * Comic,' some, I am afraid, attributable to me : I am 
 the worst of correctors of my own writing. 
 
 I saw Myers' on George Sand. I took up a friend's 
 copy of * 19th Century,' and after the symposium turned 
 to see what might be said of our favourite : — not bad, 
 with one or two good points well done : as of the efifect 
 of a female Gothe on the ardent males. — It 's wrong to be 
 wishing April were May, for I hope to get over a great 
 deal of work before then. But you excite the unnatural 
 wish. 
 
 Well. The first week in May. Are you bound to me ? 
 — You will fimd more flowers about you — that is one 
 advantage. — I hope your wife is better already. — Yours 
 ever warmly, George Meredith. 
 
 To John Morley, 
 
 Box Hill, A'pril 5, 1877. 
 
 My dear Morley, — I have read Das Gotthche this 
 morning, and with a feeling of new strength, which is 
 like conception in the brain. This is the very spirit of 
 Gothe. I have many times come in contact with it and 
 been ennobled. Fault of mine, if not more ! This high 
 discernment, this noblest of unconsidered utterance, 
 this is the Hymn for men. This is to be really prophet- 
 like. All other prophecy is insolence. 
 
 I had not read it last night, being very busy : — ^You 
 should know, I work and sleep up in my cottage at
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 275 
 
 present, and anything grander than the days and nights 
 at my porch you will not find away from the Alps : for 
 the dark line of my hill runs up to the stars, the valley 
 below is a soundless gulf. There I pace like a shipman 
 before turning in. In the day, with the S. West blowing, 
 I have a brilliant universe rolling up to me : — ^well, after 
 midnight I sat and thought of Gothe : and of the sage 
 in him, and the youth. And, somewhat in his manner, 
 the enclosed came of it. I send it to you for your private 
 reading. It was written off before I went to bed, and 
 has only the merit of exactly hitting its mark. I feel it 
 this morning a poor return to make to you for Das 
 Gbtthche. But you will excuse me, for the meaning of 
 speech is to seek an audience — if a friend, the better. 
 By the way, some one told me the other day that he felt 
 sure of you for Stoke. He said the Address to the 
 Miners had made a great impression. I trust so. 
 
 I am very hard at work, writing a 5 Act Comedy in 
 verse, besides tales, poems, touches of a novel, and 
 helping my wife with a translation. But in this room 
 of mine I should have no excuse for idleness. In truth 
 work flows with me. — Adieu. — Yours ever most warmly, 
 
 George Meredith. 
 \The Enclosure.'] 
 
 MENTOR AND PUPILS 
 
 MENTOR 
 
 Be warned of steps retrieved in pain. 
 
 PUPILS 
 
 We have strength, we have blood, we are young, 
 
 MENTOR 
 
 Youth sows the links, man wears the chain. 
 
 PUPILS 
 
 Shall a sweet lyric cease to be sung ?
 
 276 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 MENTOR 
 
 The song is short, the travail long. 
 
 PUPILS 
 
 Shall the morning brood over her grave ? 
 
 MENTOR 
 
 Forge weapons now to meet the throng. 
 
 PUPILS 
 
 There 's a bird flying white o'er the wave. 
 
 MENTOE 
 
 The torrent of the blood control. 
 
 PUPILS 
 
 'Tis a steed bounding whither we will. 
 
 MENTOR 
 
 In more than name discern the soul. 
 
 PUPILS 
 
 There is Love like a light on the hill. 
 
 MENTOR 
 
 That light of Love is fleeting fire. 
 
 PUPILS 
 
 In the deep sea of Love let us dive. 
 
 MENTOR 
 
 The test of Love is in the lyre. 
 
 PUPILS 
 
 Give us Love, and the lyre is ahve. 
 
 MENTOR 
 
 The chords are snapped by passion's touch. 
 
 PUPILS 
 
 She is there, by the tall laurel-rose. 
 
 MENTOR 
 
 You sway the staff — you grasp the crutch.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 277 
 
 PUPILS 
 
 She is beckoning : who shall oppose ? 
 
 MENTOR 
 
 Behold a giant in his prime. 
 
 PUPILS 
 
 On her breasts are the beams of the day. 
 
 MENTOR 
 
 A cripple he, surprised by Time ! 
 
 PUPILS 
 
 She has loosened her girdle : give way ! 
 
 To John Morley. 
 
 Box Hill, Ayril 25, 1877. 
 
 My dear Morley, — ... At this moment your 
 Promise for the first days in May sleeps like any other 
 innocent in the purity of infancy. Is it fair to rob it 
 of these hours and call it to misty delusiveness before 
 its time ? I am half tempted, with a shudder, to think 
 not ; and yet we wish to know whether, as before so 
 frequently. . . . All I can say is, that the nightingale is 
 now in sweet song : there 's not the ghost of a harvester 
 to bite you even in fancy. I want you to see my study ; 
 I want to see you. We have a bedroom and dressing- 
 room for you. You will be here upon the opening of the 
 beeches. Really the sweet o' the year. 
 
 To Lieut. -Colonel Charles Brackenhury.'^ 
 
 Box Hill, April 25, 1877. 
 My dear Brackenbury, — Overbusied, I can scarcely 
 get time to write — I have influence with one publisher 
 
 ^ Lieut.-Coloncl (later General) Charles Brackenbury, R.A. He had 
 acted as Times correspondent in the Austrian-Italian and Franco - 
 Prussian wars, and published, among other works on military subjects, 
 European Armamenia in 1867, and Frederick the Grtat.
 
 278 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 only. On reading the MS. I was forced to the conclusion 
 that I must not recommend it. BeUeve me, I regretted 
 it ; for I admire and could love the writer. I say 
 earnestly it will be better to put the work by : read, 
 meditate, and wait to produce another. She will in time 
 do good work, for she has a head and that which spins 
 the blood to generous fire. But it is not friendly to urge 
 her to publish. Moreover, I doubt her getting pay for 
 it. If I thought that she would, I might, in view of 
 possible present needs, hesitate. Still I should not know 
 to whom to recommend this kind of novel. She is too 
 good to produce the popular rubbish : too young to hit 
 higher moods. 
 
 Shall we see you in May ? — War ! — Ass that I was, 
 not to go for a conscript when a lad ! Soldiering is the 
 profession of the next 15 years' future, I suppose. — Your 
 very loving George Meredith. 
 
 To F J s. 
 
 Box Bill, May 26, 1877. 
 
 What is the meaning of this nasty silence, J ! 
 
 You have fallen into one of your Welsh tempers. You 
 refuse all invitations, and you incite your good wife to 
 gird at me and pretend that it is I who am to blame. 
 Shame on you, Cambrian ! Every Cambrian is not a 
 shaggy inveterate in suspicion, susceptibility, thin- 
 skinnedness, and malice. Why must you be, Jones ? 
 I forgave you when you slipped out of your bonded 
 engagement to take me home with you and give me 
 supper last February 1st. Were you insensible to my 
 generosity ? Your appointment by the seaside is a 
 patent invention. We don't believe a word of it. Be 
 
 a man, J ! Drop us word that you mean to come : 
 
 or if you really must go down to the melancholy widowed 
 ocean, try a stroke of humour — not original with you,
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 279 
 
 but amusing in its decorously-faced recurrence : name 
 a day when we may expect you, after your return. — We 
 have now a bedroom, and Will's room serves for bath- 
 room for husbands : but if you will forego it, it will 
 
 serve for a bedroom for E , whom I (we all) should 
 
 be very glad to see and hear. I wish we had a third 
 
 room for JVIiss J . 
 
 Good be wi' ye, ye silly sulky TsiSy ! Here 's a mutton- 
 bone for you any day, if you '11 only come and take it. — 
 Your countryman (void of their errors), 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To John Morley. 
 
 Box Hiix, June 24, 1877. 
 
 My dear Morley, — I hoped to hear from you that 
 you were coming, and that I might look to a glad two 
 or three days — more you never allow me in imagination, 
 nor practically so much. Write on this head : and do 
 not suppose that I ask it because I doubt your still 
 graceful dexterity in evasion. I wish to see you, as 
 part of my Summer. But why should I write in pathos ! 
 I foresee the grin up to the ear tips of exulting Puckery. 
 And would the world believe it of its philosopher, were I 
 to inform the world ? 
 
 It is this knowledge, that I see deep and am dis- 
 credited, which does for me. 
 
 I am as a cracking earth, and soon it wiU be too late 
 for the seed in me to be raised by rain. 
 
 Whither go you this year ? The pleasant book of 
 IMiss Edwards ^ turns my eyes to France (if I can go any- 
 where) ; but Marie gives me not the best tidings of your 
 wife, and hints at possible German Baths, and if you 
 were sentenced to one, I might be tempted to trudge after 
 
 ^ A Year in WeaUrn France.
 
 280 LETTERS OF GEORGE JVIEREDITH 
 
 you and sojourn in your neighbourhood a short space, 
 just to taste German atmosphere with you and watch 
 you divided, as no other man would be so strangely, 
 between a certain solid intellectual approbation of the 
 race, and disgust of their manners : admiration of their 
 strengthiness, and a sense of their spiritual flatness : 
 great respect for them, and a hesitancy to determine 
 whether they are now at their full growth, or that there 
 is light above them to conjure them higher and higher. 
 If the latter, they are the world's masters. Adieu, my 
 friend ; I am very anxious about your Rose's health. 
 I do think it would do you both some good to come here, 
 and remember, now is our time to offer our poor induce- 
 ment : this next three weeks. — Ever yours, 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To Admiral Maxse. 
 
 Box Hill, August 21, 1877. 
 
 My dear Fred, — I heard of your return from Morley, 
 and I received the Index and read ' The Cynic ' and a 
 remark on your work, rightl}'- appreciative. Morley is 
 now on his way. As for me, I fear I am again condemned 
 to trot round my circle, like an old horse at a well, ever- 
 lastingly pulling up the same buckets full of a similar 
 fluid. I may be precipitated abroad by incapacity to 
 continue writing ; and once or twice the case has looked 
 like it, though I have recovered in a middling fashion : 
 but not to do the work I call good — rather the character 
 of work one is glad to leave behind, however glad to 
 have accomplished. Things look so bad (to apply them 
 to my own affairs) for books that I doubt whether I 
 ought to spend the money. Even when they are fairly 
 good I have the doubt. 
 
 Adieu. AU the good powers be with you. Tell me
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 281 
 
 when you start for Dinant alone. I might . . . but no. 
 — Yours ever warmly, George Meredith. 
 
 To William Uardman. 
 
 Box Hill, Sept. 25, 1877. 
 
 Dear and honoured Sir William, — (In Sherwood 
 Tuck) I have just come from a visit to Brackenbury at 
 Aldershot, and I find your letter : glad to hear from you. 
 Notice of your departure for Wales had been forwarded 
 to me by my private agency. I will confess I think you 
 might have given me a day on the Hill, but my friends 
 are all free men. Curses on him that would constrain 
 them in aught ! I have not seen the Notice you speak 
 of, nor heard of the same. Apparently, to judge by your 
 hints, it is by one who has thought it necessary to go mad 
 to deal with me becomingly. This may be a compliment, 
 but the result is that the pubhc finds itself in the presence 
 of not one but Two Incomprehensibles, and the im- 
 pression is deepened that hard must be the nut when 
 the cracker falls into contortions. 
 
 If you have not seen the ' New Quarterly Magazine ' for 
 July last, let me commission D'Troia to get it from 
 Mudie's. Run your eyes over ' The Case of General Ople 
 and Lady Camper.' I think you will recognize the 
 General and remember the case. My love to D'Troia 
 and the young ladies. — Ever warmly yours, 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To John Morley. 
 
 Box Hill, Oct. 18, 1877. 
 
 My dear Morley, — I hear you are at philosophic 
 Pitfield. I wish to see you and shake your hand, and 
 hear of your travels. I have a country cousin's eager- 
 ness for that great relation of events. Your letter from 
 Gmiinden was pleasant to receive. Morison wrote sub-
 
 282 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 sequently of rain assailing you at Ischl, which I had 
 vowed for you, but not desired. I have been nowhere 
 during your absence excepting to Pitfield, and to Alder- 
 shot to Brackenbury home from the Russians. I am 
 consequently dull, unrubbed, no reflector. I write, and 
 not perfectly to my satisfaction. 
 
 VVe shall have a couple of beds here at the end of the 
 month, if there is a chance of catching you and your wife 
 — you do owe it to us. 
 
 Your stay on the Konigsee, at the St. Bartolomac 
 little inn at the end of the lake, must have been about 
 the pleasantest time of your excursion. I did not see 
 the lake at night, and I was with captious cockney 
 comrades. I still have a throb to be up the Walzmann ; 
 I propose it, and much of that region, for next year— 
 or next. I have not been away for six ! 
 
 I hope you are refreshed, furious for the pen. . . . 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To John Morley. 
 
 Box Hill, Nov. 10, 1877. 
 
 My DEAR Morley, — Let me hear from you when you 
 are stronger : not that I wish to ring my bell to summon 
 you here, but that bronchitis rather alarms me. I have 
 had reason to dread it — not on my own account, for 
 throat and chest with me seem inexpugnable. 
 
 I am perplexed by Spottiswoode's application to me 
 to lecture at the Royal. I hate it, and it does not pay 
 me, it makes me nervous, and I have to give up my 
 inner mind's work to it. But I have the question going 
 on, whether I ought to decline anything, I, unlucky, 
 portionless, ill-paid ! 
 
 France, from a knave, fallen to a fool ! 
 
 But no, the gain has been precious in the interval. 
 She has gained in self-knowledge, and a reasonable 
 courage.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 283 
 
 Judging of what MacMahon may do by his antecedents, 
 I am incKned to think that the man who could hesitate 
 about his paramount manifest duty toward the country 
 when plain sense told him to save the one army of France 
 for the defence of the capital, and a telegram from the 
 Imperial ministry pushed him to Metz, while the enemy 
 was in front and on his flank — this Marshal Donkey 
 might do anything. 
 
 The situation is enough to make us all anxious, but 
 the temperance of the French gives me some repose. 
 
 De Broglie of course is the one who makes us feel 
 blackest. — As for the army, it would split for civil war. 
 Very probably the Republican section would be beaten ; 
 the country thrown back for ten years. But the ten 
 would do more harm to the cause of the winners. Honest 
 rule must come round to a people so self-contained and 
 intelligent. — Ever yours warmly, George Meredith. 
 
 To John Morley. 
 
 Box Hill, Nov. 16, 1877. 
 
 My dear Morley, — I return you Harrison's letter. 
 ' Want of courage ' is no doubt often the visible gap in 
 Celtic character ; for this reason, that the Celt, if not 
 pushing forward, will be shrinking. Movements that 
 are impulse, either assail, or they have the tendency to 
 contract and retreat. The French are Gallic enough to 
 show this. Nevertheless, I see a harmonizing and solidi- 
 fying of the logical brain with the mercurial blood in them. 
 As to Gambetta and his trusting to phrases, the tempta- 
 tion to utter them to an interviewer must be great, 
 either to keep conversation going, or to put the sym- 
 pathetic guest in better heart, or to console oneself with 
 a trumpet sound in touching subjects vexatious. He 
 must be judged by his public conduct, which is good. —
 
 284 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 Harrison speaks of the French in the tone of one who 
 forgets that they have had a terrific whipping. And 
 when he speaks of Mirabeau and Danton, let him imagine 
 those two after the Revolution, opposed to a military 
 chief more than probably having the army in his hand. 
 — MacMahon might be shot by a Republican battalion, 
 but the shot missing, he would have all the regiments. 
 Conservatism and its friend Fear are strong enough to 
 give him sway for a time. But the Republic is only 
 a withdrawing tide. Back it comes ten years hence. 
 In a third of the time it might be established by an 
 alternation of conciliation and firmness. A Big Fool 
 with power, we must treat like a madman on a housetop, 
 and affectionately induce him to destroy himself for us. 
 — ^I cannot clearly see what Harrison wants. His paper 
 in the next ' Fnightly ' may show. His ' Englishman ' 
 letters were currently instructive. 
 
 Yes, I wish to see you, and have a mill-tide of talk 
 on varieties ; but do not ask me ; I have to get through 
 a wall of work that frowns on me as one on a wrong 
 track at present. I am very grateful for fair Florence. — 
 Yours ever, George Meredith. 
 
 Cause me to be remembered in your household. 
 
 As to the sort of men who sat with Pym and Hampden, 
 do we show them now ? If not, should we pose them 
 before the French ? All countries would want a heavy 
 shaking to bring such men to the front. — I have been 
 pleased with the plain writing of Froude's A'Becket in 
 the ' 19th Century.' Your Raynal instructs me. I am 
 ashamed to say, I did not know of him. Pattison on 
 * Books ' is perfectly correct. As with India, irrigation 
 would improve his produce. — Senior's Thiers is a lasting 
 picture to me of the Devil's own Infernal Imp. States- 
 man, yea, begotten by Machiavelli of the Vivandiere of
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 285 
 
 the Regiment ! Had I time, I would compose a La 
 Bruyere abstract of it, — Born with Satan's blessing 
 too ! His kettle-drum taps marched France to Sedan. 
 His, more than Louis Napoleon's. The Thiers-fed 
 French really thought at the sound of the bugle that 
 another chapter of the Windy History was to be written. 
 Here I am pulled up : but I could talk with you over 
 sheets. 
 
 To John Morley. 
 
 Box Hill, Nov. 24, 1877. 
 
 My dear Morley, — The day before your enclosure of 
 Pattison's article on you arrived, I heard of it and was 
 longing to see it. I have had great pleasure in reading 
 it. A point is marked of what one would have pre- 
 scribed for one's young ambition — and the ' more ' may 
 not be more worth having. Here is the man best en- 
 titled to sit as judge, and he hands you the laurel-crown ; 
 — of the secondary order only because the years are yet 
 wanting that shall make you ripe for the first. — If I did 
 not feel myself happily cut off from aU ambition, I could 
 envy you. As it is, I see you housed in a warm resting- 
 place by the way, and I go on over frozen ruts whither 
 we shall meet. Is that a stem forewarning to you ? 
 No, for an old master's praise is a lasting possession, the 
 best of promptings. Nevertheless (and this is the sum 
 of what I would say) the ' last infirmity of noble minds ' 
 is an infirmity, but susceptibility to the purest sources 
 of Fame speaks of health. See the emptiness of it, take 
 the passing benefit. Neither water nor wine shall give 
 eternal fife. That they invigorate for the hour is enough. 
 — Here is a sermon to one who needs it less than most 
 men : proof of pragmatical ineptitude in the deliverer ! — 
 I hope you are really better. — Your Black Christian of
 
 286 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 the Bloody Cross appears to have been blest by GAWD ^ 
 recently. If I had time I should like to write his hymn : 
 Te Deum : with chorus of ' all the historians/ — Yours 
 most warmly, George Meredith. 
 
 To John Morley. 
 
 Box Hnx, Nov. 28, 1877. 
 
 My dear Morley, — When Morison sent me word of 
 poor Bridger's ambition to enter into the Grocery Hne 
 in Puttenham village, I had simultaneously a vision of 
 a shivering bare little shop edging its way by rotation 
 to the sparse shower of nourishing gold on that — as to 
 grocers — arctic common. I supposed Bridger must 
 know best ; as I generally do when I am prophetic. — 
 He would have suited me had I built stables and rooms 
 over them ; and this I cannot do for a year — or two, 
 when I hope to prosper better. 
 
 In this valley a good gardener may sometimes com- 
 mand a place ; or good coachman. 
 
 Can he be strongly recommended in either capacity ? 
 He has, I think, a wife and children : how many ? How 
 much does he require for his services per week ? 
 
 I do not know of a place vacant ; but the above parti- 
 culars should be known to me. I promise not to forget him. 
 
 I go to town for a night to-morrow, and shaU call 
 on Morison. He writes in a wildly lamentable tone of 
 France. And this when such is the popular feeling 
 (including the military) toward the Republic, that a 
 conspiracy to ruin it could not succeed beyond five years, 
 and would displace it for that term only to endear it by 
 proving its value to the country. That big Dunderhead 
 in the hands of the shuffling Duke and the clerics may do 
 harm for a time. But he has not got much, it is evident, 
 by sounding the army. All depends on the Republicans 
 
 1 Note to letter : ' Or " Gord." '
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 287 
 
 making no false move. Patience ! as the man says in 
 Mauprat. The power of taking an injury without scoring 
 blood for it, will be of wonderful example in France. — 
 Yours, trusting for a better account of your health, 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 I salute your wife. A kiss to Florence. A punch in 
 the ribs to Johnson. 
 
 To John Morley. 
 
 Box HrLL, First ten minutes of 1878. 
 
 My dear Morley, — I tossed off a letter to St. B. to end 
 the year '77. I greet you in the first hour of the New 
 One, after a look at the stars from my chalet door, and 
 listening to the bells. We have just marked one of our 
 full stops, at which Time, turning back as he goes, looks 
 with his old-gentleman smile. To come from a gaze 
 at the stars — Orion and shaking Sirius below him — is 
 to catch a glance at the inscrutable face of him that 
 hurries us on, as on a wheel, from dust to dust. — I thought 
 of you and how it might be with you this year : hoped 
 for good : saw beyond good and evil to great stillness, 
 another form of moving for you and me. It seems to 
 me that Spirit is, — how, where, and by what means in- 
 volving us, none can say. But in this life there is no life 
 save in spirit. The rest of life, and we may know it in 
 love, — is an aching and a rotting. 
 
 It is late. I have been writing all day. With all my 
 heart I wish you well. — And am ever yours, 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 Box Hill, March 15, 1878. 
 
 My Citizen ! my Farrier ! soon to be my Common 
 Serjeant ! — You have my vote and interest. I am out
 
 288 LETTERS OF GEORGE IklEREDITH 
 
 among the Aldermen to canvass them. Though it seems 
 a deplorable halting and stooping on a path hitherto 
 brilliant as it has been adventurous, that you should wish 
 to be a Serjeant at all, and a common Serjeant of all 
 things, we will seek to gratify your good wish, queer in 
 appearance only, I trust. What does the Great Mother 
 say to it ? Down here there is an idea that, in appre- 
 hension of war, you apply for the post to prepare the 
 Court of Aldermen to face the foe by drilling. But 
 surely this is a new development ? Only, confound it, 
 you are always blazing in new places — as though the 
 Great Mother had been dreaming of crackers at a certain 
 period. 
 
 As for the latest Photographs — hum. I was glad of 
 the gift, glad to see the face. But it 's rather steely ; 
 capital for a Common Serjeant, whom I would depute 
 to the post on the strength of it. 
 
 Let me hear if you are in for a big dignity ; and when 
 you have a berth to fling to a dog, remember where he 
 lieth. 
 
 The Mg. Post has fought well beside the ' Pall Mall,' 
 but the sentimental or party -ridden English have spoiled 
 the hour. 
 
 It is now too late to oust the Russians, No country 
 like ours can afford to fight at so terrible a disadvantage 
 as they offer us. We must wait for new complications. 
 Meanwhile press for an army. Ultimately it will come 
 to a Conscription, and the sooner the better. The volun- 
 teering system gives us men no match for countries that 
 bring their best into the field, and in overpowering hosts. 
 
 Adieu, my friend. Give my love to Mrs. Common 
 Serjeant and the young ladies. 
 
 I do hope you will give us a day in the spring. 
 
 G. M.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 289 
 
 To Miss Alice Brandreth.^ 
 
 Apnl 11, 1878. 
 Now dawns all waxen to your seal of life, 
 This day which names you bride to make you wife, 
 Time shows the solid stamp : then see, dear maid, 
 Round those joined hands our prayers for you inlaid. 
 
 George and IMarie M. 
 
 To B. L. Stevenson. 
 
 Box Hill, Dorking, June 4, 1878. 
 
 My dear Stevenson, — I had not time to write to you 
 immediately after reading the book,^ but my impressions 
 are fresh. My wife has gained possession of it at last, 
 so I should have to run down to the house to quote 
 correctly. She fell on the book, I snatched it, she did 
 the same, but I regaining it, cut the pages, constituting an 
 act of ownership. I leave this to her invariably, so she 
 was impressed and abandoned the conflict. I have 
 been fully pleased. The writing is of the rare kind which 
 is naturally simple yet picked and choice. It is literature. 
 The eye on land and people embraces both, and does 
 not take them up in bits. I have returned to the reading 
 and shall again. The reflections wisely tickle, they are 
 in the right good tone of philosophy interwrought with 
 humour. 
 
 My protest is against the Preface and the final page. 
 The Preface is keenly in Osric's vein — ' everj^^thing you 
 will, dear worthy public, but we are exceeding modest 
 and doubt an you will read us, though exquisitely silken- 
 calved we are, and could say a word of ourselves, yet 
 on seeing our book, were we amazed at our littleness, 
 
 ^ On her marriage with Mr. J. E. H. Gordon. 
 * An Inland Voyage, published in May 1878. 
 
 VOL. I. — T
 
 290 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 indeed and truly, my lord Public ! ' As for the closing 
 page, it is rank recreancy, ' Yes, Mr. Barlow,' said 
 Tommy, ' I have travelled abroad, under various mishaps, 
 to learn in the end that the rarest adventures are those 
 one does not go forth to seek.' ' My very words to him,' 
 said Mr. Barlow to himself, at the same time presenting 
 Tommy with a guinea piece. — This last page is quite out 
 of tone with the spirit of the book. 
 
 I remember * On the Oise,' you speak of the river 
 hurrying on, * never pausing to take breath.' This, 
 and a touch of excess in dealing with the reeds, whom 
 you deprive of their beauty by overinforming them with 
 your sensations, I feel painfully to be levelled at the 
 Saxon head. It is in the style of Dickens. 
 
 But see what an impression I have of you when these 
 are the sole blots I discover by my lively sensations in 
 the perusal. 
 
 Should you be in communication with Mr. Henley, 
 I beg you will convey to him my sense of the honour he 
 does me by giving so much attention to my work. I, 
 who have worked for many years not supposing that 
 any one paid much heed to me, find it extraordinary. 
 His praise is high indeed, but happily he fetches me a 
 good lusty clout o' the head now and again, by which I 
 am surprisingly well braced and my balance is restored. 
 Otherwise praise like that might operate as the strong 
 waters do upon the lonely savage unused to such a 
 rapture. 
 
 You should see the foliage of our valley. Come you 
 to London on your way to the Continent, you must give 
 us a visit. Whither do you go ? How is the mood for 
 work with you ? In August I believe I am bound for 
 Dauphine, where a French brother-in-law of my wife, 
 a militaire, has a pied a terre on the borders of Savoy. 
 I am rather more in the mood for South Tyrol, but the
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 291 
 
 invitation attracts, and Dauphine has heights enough. 
 My ' Egoist ' is on the way to a conclusion. Of pot- 
 boilers let none speak. Jove hangs them upon necks that 
 could soar above his heights but for the accursed weight. 
 Adieu. I trust you are well. Look to health. Run 
 to no excess in writing or in anything. I hope you will 
 feel that we expect much of you. I beg you to remember 
 me to your father and mother. — Yours very faithfully, 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To G. W. Foote. 
 
 Box Hill, Dorking, August 19, 1878. 
 
 Dear Sir, — I have not to learn from your letter that 
 you do me the honour to rank my works of some worth, 
 and that you put yourself to trouble to make them better 
 known. 1 I will not oflfer you my thanks, for such things 
 are past the sense of obligation. To feel that men like 
 you and ' B. V.' read and have a taste for what I produce, 
 is full of encouragement to me to write on with good 
 heart. — We will not speak of our public which is a funny 
 public, pardonable for its humours, and wants rough 
 shaking and persistent teaching before it will have a 
 zest or respect for Kterature that is not directed to adorn 
 a library or illustrate a drawing-room table. Peut-etre 
 que cela lui vient d'un manque de coeur. At any rate, 
 the English cure one early of a desire for applause, and 
 as well as I could do, I have worked without thought of 
 that and the profit coming of it. — I should not fancy that 
 cheap editions of my writings would sell. Perhaps they 
 will go better in time, but I cannot voluntarily advertise 
 them ' by the author of . . .' 
 
 Now let me add what is of more importance to my 
 mind in communicating with you : that I admire the 
 
 ^ Mr. Footo had written complaining of what ho considered gratuitous 
 hindrances to the circulation of Meredith's works.
 
 292 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 fight you are making, and class you among the true 
 soldiers Heinrich Heine called himself for doing battle 
 with the pen. I have in your example to suppose that 
 ours is a public neglectful of brave men ; a worse offence 
 than neglect of a man of letters. 
 
 As to my poems, I have lost the ardour for publishing 
 them ; perhaps in a year or two they may appear ; I 
 am well content to remain unpublished while the poems 
 of ' B. V.' are withheld. To him as to me, the conditions 
 of sale, which frown on collections of verse not offering 
 themselves as appropriate gift-books for the innumerable 
 nuptial curate and his bride, are, I fear, adverse. Poetry 
 in England is required to have a function of a practical 
 kind, and to exercise it. 
 
 I trust I show you that you give me great pleasure in 
 writing to me. — Most faithfully yours, 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To J . Corny ns Carr. 
 
 Box Hill, Oct. 9, 1878. 
 
 My dear Carr, — Praise of yours comes from the 
 right quarter. There is no man whom I would so 
 strongly wish to please with my verse. I wish I had 
 more time for it, but my Pactolus, a shrivelled stream 
 at best, will not flow to piping. And as to pubhshing 
 books of verse, I have paid heavily for that audacity 
 twice in Pounds sterling. I had for audience the bull, 
 the donkey, and the barking cur. He that pays to 
 come before them a third time — we will not give him 
 his name. 
 
 This hullaballoo of air with drenchers to vary the 
 monotony of row, though I like it myself, will not allow 
 an invitation to allure you. But when there is a 
 cessation, perhaps you and Mrs. Carr will do us the 
 honour to come and see the Indian summer here. A
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 293 
 
 dozen differently-coloured torches you will find held up 
 in our woods. For which, however, as well as for your 
 sensitive skin, we require stillness and a smiling or sober 
 sky. 
 
 I heard of your separation from Greenwood by Jovian 
 editorial stroke, and of your rap back. I regret the 
 matter. He is the loser. Let us meet soon. It would 
 do me good to hear you swear an oath by the might 
 and majesty of Benedetto never again to let a month 
 go by without seeing me, whereas we begin to count the 
 year going. 
 
 Give my warm salutations to 'Mis. Carr. — I am, yours 
 friendhest, George Meredith. 
 
 To Admiral Maxse. 
 
 Box Hill, Oct. 14, 1878. 
 
 My dear Adiniiral, — On Tuesday, as you are weU 
 aware, I am bound to make my pilgrimage to town. This 
 afternoon I am disengaged, but having to work up to 
 half -past three, I can't mount the hill on the faint chance 
 of finding you — I should be late in my return, and I have 
 work at night. 
 
 Yet I want very much to see you — apart from an 
 ancient foolishness that I cherish and keep young. The 
 Governor ^ is in violent wrath with a Dr. Oelker who 
 attacks him as Governor of his Island. Instantly his 
 Excellency despatches me all the papers on the subject 
 of this contention — Oelker's pamphlet, his own com- 
 ments, Hamburg journals. And it appears that Oelker 
 obtained insertion for one of his letters in the ' Times.' 
 But I have not seen this letter, I am very busy finishing 
 a work. I am not controversial, and I really should not 
 know how to proceed with prudence if I were. How 
 
 * Sir Fitzhardinge Maxse, then Governor of Heligoland.
 
 294 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 put the Governor's reply into shape ? And would it 
 not be wiser to make no reply, but lie by for the next 
 attack, and then write out fairly what it is desired should 
 be said. Otherwise a second hand is in great danger by 
 making a mess of it. — Try to call here on Wednesday 
 afternoon, that we may consult. 
 
 I have been nowhere but on my weekly hack-cab-horse 
 expeditions, and it is doubtful that I shall ever go any- 
 where except on that tramroad, until I proceed in mute 
 accompaniment to my Last March. Life under these 
 conditions is not so seductive as it appeared in youth, 
 though in youth I looked out under a hail of blows. I 
 don't complain, you see, of inconsistency in my career. 
 If I could quit England, hold o£E from paper, and simply 
 look on for the remainder of my term — mountains near 
 — ^I would ask for no better. To be mixed up with them 
 is hard, these English are so astonishing to my ideas of 
 dignity and valour. Their present hugging of their India, 
 which they are ruining for the sake of giving a lucrative 
 post to younger sons of their middle class, is a picture for 
 mankind. They and the Russians are matched. But 
 the Russians have the excuse of barbarian politicians. 
 Adieu. — Yours warmly, George M. 
 
 To James Cotter M orison. 
 
 Box Hill. 
 
 My dear St. B., — It was like you to think of me when 
 you were saying Adieu to dear old Pitfield. I repeat it, 
 and with the same feelings. 
 
 I hope to propose myself to you for a night in January. 
 At present I have the Devil behind me slave-driving. 
 How often would it be a consolation to me to see you for 
 an hour if I could but spare time. Ahasuerus passing the 
 cheerfullest of Inns has about the same kind of feeling.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 295 
 
 The other day Tom Taylor happened to be writing to 
 me, and he put as a pendant, that he had been reading 
 Morison's Gibbon and liked it very greatly. I hope you 
 are all well. I give a thought to the Westminster Carp ^ 
 now and then on frosty mornings and see the mortar- 
 board blunting its angles in passengers' eyes on the 
 way to school at lightning speed. Give my love to the 
 children and a delicate morsel — manipulated by yourself 
 if you must — to ]Mrs. S. Morley I trust you have good 
 news of. — Your loving George Meredith. 
 
 To Frederick Greenwood. 
 
 Box HUiL, Dorking, Nov. 11, 1878. 
 
 My dear Greenwood, — An artist who has been 
 stricken with blindness has taken to his pen and has 
 published 2 vols, called ' Half Hours of a Blind Man's 
 Holiday,' by W. W. Fenn. I had a slight acquaintance 
 with him once, and he writes to me to do what I can to 
 get his book noticed, under the strange supposition that 
 because I publish works of fiction I have interest on the 
 Press. He does not beg to be favourably reviewed, but 
 early, and perhaps with a bit of consideration for his case, 
 which is hard. In ordinary circumstances I would with- 
 stand many requests of the kind before troubhng j'ou. 
 You wiU see that I am excused. 
 
 I go strongly with you in your work. To have won 
 Ld. Shaftesbury from the Holy Faction is a fine piece of 
 work, and all your doing. For the Rhodope horrors 
 required to be struck on many times, and no one else 
 did it. I never see you, and the loss is greatly mine. — 
 Your affectionate George Meredith. 
 
 1 Mr. Cotter Morison's son — now Sir Theodore Morison, K.C.I. E. — 
 at that time at Westminster School — an ardent fisherman.
 
 296 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 To James Cotter Moi'ison. 
 
 Box Hnx, Dec. 26, 1878. 
 
 Dearest St. B., — One word of Adieu to you before 
 you are off, and my wishes for sweet wafting airs to you, 
 away and home, — I have recently looked at Leslie 
 Stephen's ' Alps in Winter,' and the refreshingness of it 
 bids me ask you why you don't go to see Geneva and 
 a valley or two, and home round by the Simplon and the 
 Riviera, taking Burgundy and Langres on your return ? 
 
 But pleasure perhaps is choicest when we launch upon 
 {the waters) and leave the route to them. Let me hear 
 from you when you are at Montague Place again. After 
 which you are to give me as good a chronicle of this as 
 of the preceding journey. — Your loving 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To G. W. Foote. 
 
 Box Hill, Dorking, Dec. 31, 1878. 
 
 Dear Sir, — I have ordered ' The Liberal ' of my book- 
 seller, and shall do what I can to make it spread. I trust 
 you will succeed with it. I am naturally doubtful, con- 
 sidering the public we have, but of many failures comes 
 the final victory, and to fail is neither shameful nor dis- 
 heartening if our hearts are firmly set upon the cause we 
 support. If by chance I have any piece of writing, or 
 see matter to write of, that I think may suit your maga- 
 zine, I will forward it. At present I have little leisure. 
 But I shall request you to examine rigidly any writing 
 you receive from me, and that you will not hesitate to 
 reject it, should it not be perfectly to your taste. I am 
 too hard on myself to be subject to sensitiveness, and I 
 have a considerate feeling for editors. — Yours very truly, 
 
 George Meredith.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 297 
 
 To Frederick Greenwood. 
 
 Box Hill, Dorking, Dec. 31, 1878. 
 My dear Greenwood, — I wish you health and strength 
 for the New Year. You do the work of a good soldier ; 
 I see your watchfulness perpetually, besides the big 
 strokes and thwacks ; and for no man have I so warm a 
 desire to see him sustained to keep to his task, as for you. 
 Adieu. Remember me to Traill. — Yours, 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To R. L. Stevenson. 
 
 Box Hill, Dorking, Apnl 16, 1879. 
 
 My dear Stevenson, — I have had but the song of a 
 frog for a correspondent since your letter reached me, 
 and my note is Batrachian still. A hint of suppressed 
 Influenza seems to have been the cause ; my customary 
 specific of hard exercise, with which I generally sweat 
 out all attacks, has this time failed. I do nothing but 
 read, and that flimsily. — We have all been grieved to hear 
 of your illness. Mariette says, ' II a mange trop de 
 pickles ! ' I fear it may be from overwork. Take my 
 advice, defer ambition, and let all go easy with you imtil 
 you count ioitY : — then lash out from full stores. You 
 are sure to keep imagination fresh, and will lose nothmg 
 by not goading it. 
 
 My ' Egoist ' has been out of my hands for a couple of 
 months, but Kegan Paul does not wish to publish it 
 before October. I don't think you will like it : I doubt 
 if those who care for my work will take to it at all. And 
 for this reason, after doing my best with it, I am in no 
 hurry to see it appear. It is a Comedy, with only half of 
 me in it, unlikely therefore to take either the public or 
 my friends. This is true truth, but I warned you that 
 I am cursed with a croak, — I am about one quarter
 
 298 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 through ' The Amazing Marriage,' which, I promise you, 
 you shall like better. 
 
 Paul cannot yet let me have a copy of the * Donkey 
 in the Cevennes,' of which I am very hopeful. 
 
 We fully expect you and look for you to come to us in 
 May. Please bring good weather. Let me hear that you 
 progress and can put one leg for^'ard. Then we can cal- 
 culate that the other will follow, and we will count the 
 days till we have you. Our plans are, to fill the cottage 
 with friends during May, June, and part of July ; after 
 which we go to Dauphine for some weeks, home about 
 the end of September. . . . My wife condoles with you, 
 greets you, and will be glad to welcome you, of this from 
 me be well assured. I beg you to present my compliments 
 to your father and mother. — Yours very cordially, 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To James Cotter M orison. 
 
 Box Hill, May 6, 1879. 
 
 My dear St. B., — Mariette has come right round and 
 is rosy again. But I am lank, limp, and cavern-chapped ; 
 I have had and have not quite thrown off an attack of 
 what is called catarrh of the stomach, owing to weakness 
 in that region from a prolonged course of ^^Titing at night 
 during winter. And since it came on I have been quite 
 unable to write a line. The effect is a sort of ' old man's 
 cough ' : You cough your breath out and labour to draw 
 it back as if you had to count a million to the minute, 
 and was rising in a bucket from perdition's deeps, with 
 every prospect of going down with a run. The windpipe 
 closes ; in fact, the hangman has you by the throat each 
 ten or twenty minutes ; you are a merry Gallows' bird. 
 And to be waked up at night by a seizure, is akin to the 
 dark archangel's intimation to you to prepare for im-
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 299 
 
 mediate flight. Happily there was no inflammation of 
 the trachea accompanying it. 
 
 However, I am getting free of this clutch. My wife and 
 Mariette go to Eastbourne next week ; and I thinly, if 
 you will have me, I will offer myself for a couple of days. 
 I should like to come. I think it would be Monday, but 
 I will write. Let me hear if the week I choose is one to 
 suit you. 
 
 I saw Browning at the Grosvenor Gallery private in- 
 spection last Wednesday, and mentioned to him that his 
 Pheidippides (the run to Sparta) had been proposed by 
 you to me, and by me shrunk from. I have not yet seen 
 the poem. 
 
 Marriott gave me a good accoimt of Morley some time 
 back, and that, as I never see him now, refreshed me. — 
 Adieu, dear St. B. — Your loving George Meredith. 
 
 To James Cotter 31 orison. 
 
 Box Hill, May 22, 1879. 
 
 Dear St. B., — I am glad that the strain is at an end 
 with Theodore. 
 
 His fishing-rod was despatched yesterday by rail, with 
 a label addressed to him. 
 
 But the Fatal Breeks have not arrived. 
 
 Nor will they, 1 should think. 
 
 Adieu, my dear friend. I hope the boy will have a 
 pleasant holiday. Here all my people are absent. The 
 carpets are up and the walls are peeled. I go below for 
 a dinner and hurriedly return from a place that looks 
 as if gutted par les Prussiens. — The days were pleasant 
 with you, as always. — Your loving 
 
 George Meredith.
 
 300 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 To Admiral Maxse. 
 
 Box Hnx, 1879. 
 
 My dearest Fred, — I send bag to-day, come up to- 
 morrow. I pass Cubitt's eternal finger at 3 p.m. Meet 
 me there, if you can. My way will be up by the avenue, 
 his drive. 
 
 Will is improving, but prostrate, and likely to be legless 
 for a couple of weeks. Boys have to learn in this way. 
 If they will not take good advice in the brain, Nature 
 thumps them. Happy they who are admonished even 
 then. — Your loving George M. 
 
 To 0. W. Foote. 
 
 Box Hill, Dorking, May SO, 1879. 
 
 Dear Sir, — I have read Mr. Thomson's article on my 
 book, with the singular pleasure we feel when it is evident 
 that we have been loved of old date, and by the very 
 worthiest, and that nothing but love can have that way 
 of spea.king. The mental stature of the critic is the 
 point ; after which the sincerity. He who does me the 
 honour to praise me in this instance, is to be valued in 
 both respects. I wish that work of his were forthcoming. 
 
 You will pardon the delay in my reply to j^^ou. I have 
 been away from home, rather unwell, as I grieve to hear 
 it is the case with Mr. Thomson. I finished a 3 vol. work 
 rapidly, and as it comes mainly from the head and has 
 nothing to kindle imagination, I thirsted to be rid of it 
 soon after conception, and it became a struggle in which 
 health suffered, and my unfailing specific of hard exercise 
 was long in resting me. I look to the Dauphine Alps, to 
 which I go in July, to do that more completely. 
 
 Let me hope that ' The Liberal ' promises to flourish. 
 I have it monthly, but know not what opinion to form
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 301 
 
 of your chances of success. I should venture to say, tliat 
 a strong political article is wanted each month — to head 
 the flock : — one in which the Philosophy of Radicalism 
 would cast its light on parties. But the pen to show 
 philosophy in controversial Radicalism is rarely to be 
 met. — I am, most faithfully yours, 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To John Dennis. 
 
 Box Hill, Dorking, June 5, 1879. 
 
 Dear Dennis, — Be assured that I have no other feeling 
 than thankfulness to one who can take notice of my work 
 without seizing me by the coUar to shake me, and then 
 pitch me upon Covent Garden's cabbage-leaves. I have 
 found it rare to be treated otherwise in the land of bulls 
 and bull-dogs. But you spoke in the tone of criticism, 
 and if not wholly, I could partly agree with you. When 
 I think of what I say of others, I fully accord the right 
 of the world to have its reply upon me : and all that I 
 pretend to do is to write as weU as I can. — Faithfully 
 yours, George Meredith. 
 
 To James Cotter Morison. 
 
 Box Hlll, July 1, 1879. 
 
 My dear St. B., — I discover that the date of your 
 dinner-party falls on a Tuesday. Now — that is a day 
 when I am quite a slave, and never free until half-past 
 eight. So I cannot come. But ask me for some day 
 when you will be alone. And better still, after your 
 15th, give me a visit here and take a draught of Box Hill 
 aqueous atmosphere — for dry is nowhere to be had. To 
 me, however, the days and nights are splendid : cloud- 
 scenery of the mightiest. Tell me you will come. 
 
 Have not the papers all gone ignoble mad over Prince
 
 302 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 Louis Napoleon, whom they insist on calling the Prince 
 Imperial, as if with the design to offend the French ? 
 On this occasion the ' Pall Mall ' is not an inch above the 
 others. The Prince was a legacy of blood to France. 
 As a professional Pretender and youth of good courage, 
 he sought distinction : and consequently he pressed to 
 the front : — and if he had come home without brilliant 
 distinction, he would have been ridiculous to the French 
 for having done nothing to repolish the name of a 
 Sedanned Bonaparte. To abuse our Generals and 
 officers for letting him see service is foul folly. — Ho was 
 evidently a little intoxicated with his first command. — 
 It would of course have been as well if Lieut. Carey had 
 turned an eye to look after him. — Here is a strange war, 
 in which the best of our nation are heartily with the 
 enemy ! — I am not perfectly re-established, anaemic, 
 vacuous, adust, songless, fountainless. I hope it is better 
 with you. My love to all. — Your affectionate 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 Comyns Carr is a capital fellow and good boon-fellow. 
 The other man you mention is an underbred and tiresome 
 dolt. 
 
 To Jaines Thomson. 
 
 I am glad to be in personal communication with you. 
 The pleasant things you have written of me could not 
 be other than agreeable to a writer. I saw that you had 
 the rare deep love of literature ; rare at all times and in 
 our present congestion of matter almost extinguished ; 
 which led you to recognize any effort to produce the 
 worthiest. For when a friend unmasked your initials, 
 I was flattered. For I had read the ' City of Dreadful
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 303 
 
 Night,' and to be praised by the author of that poem, 
 would strike all men able to form a judgment upon 
 eminent work, as a distinction. 
 
 In July 1878 James Thomson was — through Mr. Foote's 
 introduction — put in correspondence with Meredith, whose 
 work he had long held in high esteem. 
 
 To James Thomson. 
 
 1879. 
 
 The Reviewers are not likely to give you satisfaction. 
 But read them, nevertheless, if they come in your way. 
 The humour of a situation that allots the pulpit to them, 
 and (for having presumed to make an appearance) the 
 part of Devil to you, wiU not fail of consolation. My 
 inclination is to believe that you will find free-thoughted 
 men enough to support you. 
 
 To R. L. Stevenson. 
 
 GoLDRTLL House, Patterdale, 
 Westmoeeland, July 28, 1879. 
 
 My dear Stevenson, — I am here with the Editor of 
 the ' Fortnightly,' battling with rain and mists, and stifiE 
 from a recent stiffish path up and down crags of a sufficient 
 slope for brooks and kids. Now and then we have a spot 
 of sun. He would smile, but he must cry, and he has got 
 a tragic handkerchief, and with horrid iteration of stage 
 action he resumes it when we are expecting him to give 
 us a countenance. There is a nymph whose death he 
 caused by giving too much. — I am not so far from you, 
 my host says. It is his intention to write to you shortly 
 apropos of work in his imperial contemplation. I have
 
 304 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 ventured to assure him that there will be no man better 
 for it. He and I have been wonderfully pleased with 
 the Cevennes excursion and the Donkey. I prize Modes- 
 tine above the cause. The night in the Pine Forest is 
 memorable. I should have written of it in the fresh burst 
 of my satisfaction, but knew not where to aim to hit you. 
 — ^The diplomatic Kegan has dealt me a stroke. Without 
 a word to me, he sold the right of issue of the * Egoist ' 
 to the * Glasgow Herald,' and allowed them to be guilty 
 of a perversion of my title. I wrote to him in my in- 
 credulous astonishment. He replied to me, excusing 
 himself with cool incompetency. He will have to learn 
 (he is but young at it) that these things may be done 
 once — not more. 
 
 I fancy I shall leave Morley for Box [Hill] on Tuesday, 
 hardly later, except perchance on the tempting of a fine 
 day. Give my compliments with addition of warmth 
 to them to your Mother and Father. Henley wrote for 
 my Essay on Comedy. I have directed my wife to post 
 it to him. 
 
 Adieu. Keep strong work in view, for you are of 
 the few who can accomplish it. Let me hear of you when 
 the mood is on you, and encourage the mood to come. — 
 Your friendliest George Meredith. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 Box Hill, Nov. 5, 1879. 
 
 My dear Sir William, — If you care to have a copy 
 of my latest book, will you tell me where I can leave it 
 when I come to town on Tuesday next. I am so busy on 
 the one day of my enforced visit to your Metropolis, 
 that I cannot, as often I wish, turn aside to St. George's 
 Road from Victoria Station ; but would it suit you to
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 305 
 
 send to Hill, the baker of bread and biscuits, Albert 
 Mansions, Victoria Street, if I leave the volumes there 
 addressed to you ? I have this time fought resolutely 
 to preserve a copy for you, though they do but dole out 
 four to me. Whether you will like it, I cannot guess, 
 as the whole cast of it is against the modern style ; and 
 you are not obliged to say anything about it, if you do 
 not. Give my love to the 5 jOciva besieged and the young 
 ladies. Accept it yourself. — Your faithfullest 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To William Hardman. 
 
 Box Hill, Nov. 10, 1879. 
 
 My dear Lord William, — I shall not say that the Tory 
 Government is worth a rap until I hear of you as a City 
 Magistrate, and the news that your Queen has laid her 
 broadsword so smartly upon you that you have sprung 
 up a knight. I wish immensely for an evening with you 
 all. The state of the case is, that I come but one day to 
 town, and I am busy at home with fresh work. On 
 Tuesday I am at liberty till 8| p.m. when I am at London 
 Bridge Station to return to my Hill. I could not put 
 off my work in the day without mulcting myself heavily, 
 and so, just for the present, till my work is easier in my 
 hand, I must abstain from offering myself to you. This 
 however I cannot but add : that I wish greatly to see 
 you all. But will you not think of coming down to me 
 some day ? Tom Taylor was here yesterday, with family, 
 and they found our Indian summer magnificent. The 
 woods are worth seeing. Even in the winter, as you 
 know well, we can fill the poet's mind with cherishable 
 matter. I come to town to-morrow from Dorking 
 10 A.M. — ^Arriving at Victoria station at 11 : and if I don't 
 
 VOL. 1. — u
 
 306 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 see you (I could wish to, but I know how hard-worked 
 you are), I will march over to Hill, Baker, and deposit 
 with him the Three Volumes, addressed to you, to be 
 called for. My love to you all. — Your faithfullest 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To Admiral Maxse. 
 
 Box Hill, March 2, 1880. 
 
 My dear Fred, — Though we are not running together 
 we need not be disunited. I follow you sometimes in the 
 newspapers and think of you often. But you, on account 
 of your infidelities, protest to be the warmer. — By the 
 way, your letters on the Commune greatly pleased me. 
 
 I am very unwell. During the frost I was able to work 
 in the morning and evening. When the soft winds came 
 I broke down, the stomach lost all power, and since then 
 I have worked badly and waked continually. I will try 
 and call on you to-morrow, when I shall be in town, but 
 doubt my abihty. 
 
 I will try to get the poem on ' France ' at Chapman and 
 Hall's. It has not been republished and is in the Jany. 
 number of the Fortnightly for 1871. — I have a copy 
 somewhere. If I can find it to-day you shall have it. — I 
 shall be at the Garrick at 7 o'clock to-morrow, and if you 
 don't see me between 12 and 1 p.m. make an effort for the 
 Garrick. English politics appear to be at their highest 
 a hurly-burly, and I don't wonder that French should 
 have a greater hold on you. The Liberal chiefs here 
 have ruined the cause for 20 years. The only hope, it 
 seems to me, is that Radicalism should be avowed, and 
 the sham medium done away with. But then there 
 would be no prospects of Office for a long term : and at 
 least the prospect is desired. This country is Tory. The 
 party against it is a fractional party, only to be held
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 307 
 
 together by one of the strong causes which embrace general 
 interests. The work done, it goes to pieces, for the 
 reason that Liberal and Radical sentiment is shared by 
 a very minor portion. There is no soul of Liberalism. 
 
 Hopeless, I suppose, to think of asking you to come 
 down here ? — Your loving George Meredith. 
 
 To James Thomson. 
 
 Box Hill, Dorking, April 27, 1880. 
 
 Dear Sir, — I will not delay any longer to write to you 
 on the subject of your book, though I am not yet in a 
 condition to do justice either to the critic or the poet, 
 for owing to the attack I suffered under last year, I have 
 been pensioned oS all work of any worth of late ; and 
 in writing to you about this admirable and priceless book 
 of verse I have wished to be competent to express my 
 feeling for your merit, and as much as possible the praise 
 of such rarely equalled good work. My friends could tell 
 you that I am a critic hard to please. They say that 
 irony lurks in my eulogy. I am not in truth frequently 
 satisfied by verse. Well, I have gone through your 
 volume, and partly a second time, and I have not found 
 the hne I would propose to recast. I have found many 
 pages that no other English poet could have written. 
 Nowhere is the verse feeble, nowhere is the expression 
 insufficient ; the majesty of the line has always its full 
 colouring, and marches under a banner. And you accom- 
 plished this effect with the utmost sobriety, with absolute 
 self-mastery. I have not time at present to speak of 
 the City of Melancolia. There is a massive impressive- 
 ness in it that goes beyond Diirer, and takes it into upper 
 regions where poetry is the sublimation of the mind of 
 man, the voice of our highest. What might have been
 
 308 LETTERS OP GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 Baid contra poet, I am glad that you should have fore- 
 stalled and answered in ' Philosophy ' — very wise writing. 
 I am in love with the dear London lass who helped you 
 to the ' Idyll of Cockaigne.' You give a zest and new 
 attraction to Hampstead Heath. . . . — ^Yours very 
 faithfully, George Meredith. 
 
 To Frederick Greenwood. 
 
 Box Hill, Dorking, May 4, 1880. 
 
 My dear Greenwood, — You are having thousands of 
 letters and are deep in business. If I swell the list with 
 my bit of sentiment, I can make it short because I am 
 certain that you know me true to you. My first im- 
 pression last Saturday evening was one of a personal 
 catastrophe. I have walked per annum about 450 miles 
 for my Pall Mall, And I felt that it was a startling loss 
 to the country. Yours was the one English paper that 
 could boast of independent views and competent power 
 of expression. On Sunday the Tramps came down for 
 a walk to Leith Hill (which was glorious, and the feast 
 ensuing satisfactory) and they were sympathetic. We 
 said [that] Greenwood thumped, and hard : We loved him 
 when we thought him right, we hated when we thought 
 him wrong, but right or wrong, the fist was honest, it was 
 a giant's and it was English. However, Monday brought 
 the better news that you soon pilot and captain another 
 vessel. The Pall Mall did not make you, but you the 
 P.M. So it will be with the new venture, and I still 
 believe that the country has enough of the right metal 
 in it to back your new conception of the signification of 
 journalism. I could proceed, but it would be chattering. 
 Certain worthy words were printed by the old Morning 
 Post, which pleased me. Adieu, I am always with you 
 at heart, and ever yours, George Meredith.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 309 
 
 To R. L. Stevenson. 
 
 Box HiLii, Dorking, 
 England, June 16, 1880. 
 
 My dear Stevenson, — We have all had great rejoicing 
 over news coming direct from you, ' drawn from the 
 Springs.' Mariette, Will, my wife and I congratulate 
 you on your temerity. We all want to know when it is 
 that we are to see you. Bear that in mind, and let us 
 hear of you when you turn your face east to the Island 
 again. We had rumours of you : first from Walter 
 Pollock, who came down to Leatherhead to lecture on 
 Dumas the Elder : then from Leslie Stephen, on his 
 visit to us at the head of six of the famous corps of the 
 Sunday Tramps : but these rumours were vague, though 
 they blew note of a Wife and had thunder in them. Let 
 me tell you that our household roars at the absence of 
 any communication from her lord concerning the lady. 
 Has he married Enigma — to tell of whom is split the 
 head ? Is she American? — Calif ornian ? — Scottish washed 
 in Pacific brine ? 
 
 The Sunday Tramps visiting us were L. S. for leader or 
 Pied Piper, Morison, Fredk. Pollock, Groom Robertson, 
 Edgeworth and another. Will and I shouldered a sack 
 of cold sausages, 'Polinaris and Hock, and met them at 
 old Dorking Station. Thence away to Leith Hill, where, 
 in splendid sunlight, we consumed the soul of the sack, 
 talked spiritedly (you may have been mentioned among 
 the brilliant subjects), rolled and smoked. Then down 
 the piny clefts of the hill by Friday Street into the sloping 
 meadows each side the Tillingbourne leaping through 
 Evelyn's Wooton, along under Ranmore to our cottage 
 and dinner. To this day the wallv has a bubbling memory: 
 L. S. in a recent number of the * Pall Mall ' has described 
 it in the philosophic manner. — By the way, you have
 
 310 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 heard that Morley has the ' Pall Mall ' ? Greenwood is ofi 
 to the ' St. James's Gazette,' after a snap with George 
 Smith, who has a son-in-law that is Gladstonite. Hence 
 Gladstone's victory at the elections precipitated the fall 
 of Greenwood, the foe of Gladstone. But the fall of very 
 mighty heroes is to rise. Greenwood towers in his new 
 paper : the poor ' PaU Mall ' drags on melancholily, as it 
 were with bowels out, for Greenwood marched the whole of 
 the ' Pall Mall ' staff away to his drumming, and Morley 
 has to be abroad recruiting. 
 
 Last year I was down with Morley at Ullswater. We 
 taUved of you and he wrote to you in your hills near Edina, 
 but had no answer. He wanted to engage you to do some 
 work for the ' Fortnightly ' — had it in his mind to propose 
 Travels in the Vosges or Harz, I think. Leaving West- 
 moreland I took my family to France, where it was dis- 
 covered that Will had Whooping Cough ; an illumination 
 to me, for in the Spring I had been seized with an incom- 
 prehensible attack, Mariette as well, all the symptoms 
 the same as Will's. I used to cough at night until the 
 works threatened a strike, and I was frightfully over- 
 thrown by it. I was partly under the shadow of it when 
 you last saw me. I left my family in Normandy and 
 crossed Touraine and the centre of Franco to Clermont- 
 Ferrand, by rail through the Chaulat, a bit of your 
 Cevennes country, to Nimes, on to IMarseilles and Bor- 
 dighera, back to Dauphine. After a couple of weeks in the 
 Norman homo we returned to our cot. Here I have 
 been working ever since. The children are well. I have 
 an idea of sending Will to Westminster School for the 
 terra after Christmas. I fancy I have more to say, but 
 there 's no space. We have heard on all sides great 
 praise of your Cevennes tour. The article on Thoreau is 
 good reading. 
 
 Let me hoar from you again.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 311 
 
 I am, with my heartiest salute to Mrs. Robert Louis, 
 your faithful George Meredith. 
 
 Both dogs, Islai and Jacobi, in sound condition. 
 
 To Edmund Gosse} 
 
 Box Hnx, Dorking, Dec. 4, 1880. 
 
 Dear Sir, — A letter such as you have done me the 
 honour to send me is, as you must know in your experi- 
 ence, the best reward and encouragement a writer can 
 have. — I am, yours very faithfully, George Meredith. 
 
 To Sir William Hardman.^ 
 
 Box Hill, Feb. 7, 1881. 
 
 My dear Friend, — I heard of your loss of your mother 
 long after this had befallen you. Whatever strikes at 
 your breast must always touch mine, and I need not tell 
 you of my sympathy. But that can hardly be called a 
 loss in which the reason of all concerned is forced to 
 acquiesce in spite of grief. I thought over the old time, 
 and a good soul gone, a right pleasant face, and your 
 natural regrets, and then felt that it had come to you in 
 the natural order of things. 
 
 This is to tell you that I have a book ^ for you — not to 
 be reviewed : only to be read at your entire leisure. 
 I fear you will not care for it. But it is history, and a 
 curious chapter of human nature. 
 
 Often I meditate writing to propose myself for an 
 evening. I iind it impossible to spare the time, for an 
 unpopular author has to work hard. Some day I shall 
 
 * In acknowledgment of a letter expressing appreciation of ' Plioebua 
 with Admetus.' 
 
 * Who had recently become Editor of the Morning Post. 
 
 * The Tragic Comediana.
 
 312 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 hope to descend on you. My love to D'Troia and the 
 young ladies. 
 
 The book shall be left at the University Club, Suffolk 
 Street. — Ever your affectionate George Meredith. 
 
 To James Cotter Morison. 
 
 Box Hill. March 28, 1881. 
 Dearest St. B., — Will brings me word that Theodore 
 gives a bad report of you. How is it ? Pray let me hear 
 from some member of the monastery. I was about to 
 send you a vehement denunciation of your silence : 
 St. Bernardine in lofty wrath ; but if you are ill, I retract, 
 and down on my knees for your recovery. I, by dint of 
 exercise upon Rakoczy water, am coming round to some 
 sanity of condition. — How wonderfullj'' weU Morley is 
 driving the ' Pall Mall.' We may say too good for that, 
 but he is a priceless editor. On the other hand the 
 
 * St. James's Gazette ' is an astonishing collapse of ability. 
 It is nothing but incessant barking. 
 
 • The day is going, now 'tis noon, 
 Greenwood 'gins bay the Gladstone moon, 
 While temperate Morley with assuaging voice 
 Bids England in her bigger G. rejoice.' 
 
 I have not seen Morley for long. — It is very good of you 
 aU to let us have Theodore at Easter. We will take our 
 best care of him. Will is very sensible of his kindness 
 at Westminster. My boy has been much improved — 
 
 * manlified ' — by the school akeady, likes it, is growing 
 proud of it, and may in a modest way prove a credit to 
 it before he leaves. 
 
 Give my love to all and believe me ever yours at heart, 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 The dreadful curse of Verse is on me, and has been for 
 two months.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 313 
 
 To Arthur Cecil Blunt. ^ 
 
 Box Hill, May 16, 1881. 
 
 My dear Arthur, — My wife is to be in town this week, 
 and would like me to hint to you in roundabout phrase 
 that the present of (you see I have not the feminine 
 genius) tickets for four to some place of entertainment 
 would give her not only personal satisfaction but a sort 
 of intimately theatrical air to flaunt before her friends, 
 two of whom are girls from the country who think actors 
 are demigods, and one an old lady who laughs for an hour 
 at a casual stage grimace, or a tale of a tightness of breech, 
 or what you will that 's funny. All four would make a 
 splendid quartette of claqueurs for any new piece you 
 may know of, whether in or out of it. 
 
 So far I have done my duty, and I think delicately 
 and elegantly. They are people who pay to witness 
 our stage entertainments, so it will not astonish you that 
 some people should rank it a favour to be allowed to see 
 them for nothing. I have advised my wife to go and 
 see (it was once my doom while waiting for Chaumont) 
 your great Mr. Collette in ' Bounce,' your great modern 
 Play. I fancy the spectacle might work a cure for 
 curiosity. 
 
 On Sunday next the Tramps, headed by Leslie Stephen, 
 dine with me after a walk to Leith Hill. Sunday after 
 there will be room, and this is the jolly bachelor hour of 
 the year, remember. — Yours ever, George Meredith. 
 
 To Artliur Cecil Blunt. 
 
 Box Hill, May 17, 1881. 
 
 My dear Arthur, — I am asked by my wife whether 
 I gave you her address in town. I reply that I think 
 
 ^ The Arthur Cecil of the playhouse.
 
 314 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 not, having merely fulfilled a formality, which you could 
 treat as such, and so an end to the matter. But women 
 have not this fine philosophy, and the great exemplar of 
 the sex to me keeps repeating : 
 
 ' Footman ' ; 
 and again 
 
 * Mrs. Footman ' ; 
 
 which seems like a contradiction in terms — a violent 
 collision and impossible conjunction of the sexes ; besides 
 imputing I know not what to the man of calves : — 
 
 ' Footman ' (says she), 
 46 Torrington Square.' 
 
 There was a fair Footman of Torrington Square 
 Desired to a Theatre Royal to repair, 
 With her nieces three, purple as Scotia's thistle, 
 And enjoy the rich humours of great Mr. Cecil, 
 Who of the Comic Muse questionless mate is, 
 And this they were anxious for perfectly gratis. 
 
 With which, dear Arthur, vive atque vale. — Yours, 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To Arthur 0. Meredith. 
 
 Box Hill, Dorking, June 19, 1881. 
 
 My dear Arthur, — I have been struck to the heart by 
 hearing ill news of your health from Lionel Robinson. 
 He was here yesterday, and told me of your having had 
 to consult a physician in London about spitting of blood. 
 Let me know of your present condition immediately, 
 and of how you feel affected, and what you think to be 
 the cause of it. The account of the nature of your work 
 makes me fully commend the wisdom of your decision 
 to quit it and Lille. It would severely tax the strongest.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 315 
 
 You should have rest for a year. The first thing to 
 consider is the restoration of your physical soundness, 
 and rest in the right sort of atmosphere for you might 
 do much in a few months : — either on our South Coast, 
 or Devon ; or if advisable at Davos-platz in the Grisons, 
 where friends of mine of weak lungs have been with 
 profit. Your pride, I hope, will not be oftended if I offer 
 to eke out your income during the term of your necessary 
 relapse. You have laboured valiantly and won our 
 respect, and you may well consent to rest for awhile, 
 when that is the best guarantee for 3'our taking up the 
 fight again. But come to us in September : I fancy your 
 term at Lille is then over, and we shall all be overjoyed 
 to welcome you. Your sister Mariette is a good, humane, 
 intelHgent girl, an excellent musician already, for her 
 age ; and Will, though not brilliant, is a kindly fellow, 
 with wits of a slow sort. He is at Westminster School, 
 and friends of mine in town do me the favour to invite 
 him to their houses instead of his father, so he sees a 
 little of Society, and has manners above the schoolboys. 
 You will take to them both. They will look forward 
 to a glad time if you say you are coming. Our cottage 
 can now supply a bedi'oom, and this is at your disposal 
 for as long as you please. When I was informed of your 
 wishing to throw up your situation at Lille that you might 
 embrace the profession of Literature, I was alarmed. 
 My own mischance in that walk I thought a sufficient 
 warning. But if you come to me I will work with you 
 in my chalet (you will find it a very quiet and pretty 
 study), and we will occupy your leisure to some good 
 purpose. I am allowed the reputation of a tolerable 
 guide in writing and style, and I can certainly help you 
 to produce clear English. You shall share the chalet 
 with me. Here you will be saving instead of wasting
 
 316 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 money, at all events. It wiU in no way be time lost. 
 After all, with some ability, and a small independence 
 just to keep away the wolf, and a not devouring ambition, 
 Literature is the craft one may most honourably love. 
 I do not say to you, try it. I should say the reverse to 
 anyone. But assuming you to be under the obligation 
 to rest, you might place yourself in my hands here with 
 advantage ; and leading a quiet life in good air, you would 
 soon, I trust, feel strength return and discern the bent 
 of your powers. Anything is preferable to that perilous 
 alternation of cold market and hot cafe at Lille. I had 
 no idea of what you were undergoing, or I would have 
 written to you before. No one better than I from hard 
 privation knows the value of money. But health should 
 not be sacrificed to it. I long greatly to see you. I 
 would at once run over to Lille, if I could spare the time. 
 Write to me, and specially of your health, on the day 
 you receive this — a dozen lines, in the case of a press of 
 business. You may rely on my wife's cordial anxiety 
 to see you well and receive you here, — I shall be troubled 
 until I hear from you. — Believe me, ever at heart, your 
 affectionate father, George Meredith. 
 
 To Arthur G. Meredith. 
 
 Box Hill, Dorking, June 23, 1881. 
 My dear Arthur, — Mariette brought your letter up to 
 my chalet at noon to-day ; ' A letter from Arthur, 
 Papa.' She knew I was anxious to hear from you. — 
 On the whole the news rather relieved me, but that I 
 am uncertain whether, with the cessation of the haemor- 
 rhage, the blood-spitting has quite discontinued. If it 
 has, one is allowed to suppose that the evil was done 
 during the last severe winter, under trying conditions,
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 317 
 
 on a depressed system. I could raise a cry of thank- 
 fulness to that strange divinity of Accident, Providence, 
 at your release from those conditions in good time — as 
 I trust it is. I shall be glad when you quit Lille. Your 
 scheme of taking to mountain air is wise, I think ; but 
 watch yourself, and should it act unfavourably — as I 
 do not fancy it will — the warmest sea-side air you can 
 get in Europe — ^Malaga — will be best for you. If, on 
 the other hand, the mountain suits you and you are bene- 
 fited by the sharp purity of it, one would say that 
 Davos-platz in winter would be preferable to the Riviera, 
 where treacherous winds are at work to undo the re- 
 storative sunlight. At Davos-platz you would find 
 Louis Stevenson, a friend of mine, a promising young 
 writer, but latterly struck with weakness of chest. I 
 am told he intends to pass a second winter there. Some 
 invalids are splendidly invigorated by its tonic atmo- 
 sphere ; and if this can be enjoyed, where the malady 
 has not distinctly set in, a rapid cure ensues. Your letter 
 bids me hope, and perhaps it may be, as it seems, that 
 when you have thorough rest and change of scene, sweet 
 air and appetite, you will make new blood, and therewith 
 remake your frame. My thoughts wiU follow you still 
 anxiously. It is a hohday to me to think of you soon 
 having liberty. 
 
 You speak of jour income ; I am glad it is so much more 
 than Poco told me it was. I feared you would hardly 
 have enough, and dreaded your being forced to go into 
 harness again, without requisite strength. Poco says 
 you understand the management of your money, and 
 that ]Mr. Mill Williams invests it for you. I should 
 imagine him to be an excellent adviser. In these days I 
 do not like Banks. The American Government Consols 
 please me beyond most investments. — I am to inherit
 
 318 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 something from a relative, who is an old lady of 80 and 
 more, and an imbecile, but extremely tenacious of her 
 crazy hold of life ; so that I see no holiday before me, 
 and there are chances of my being outlasted. Whether 
 I inherit or not the money goes to my children, so you 
 will have your share. — ^My health is now far from good. 
 I finished the last volumes of a novel two years back by 
 writing at night for three months. An attack of whooping 
 cough followed on the lowered nerves. I have never 
 been well since then. My digestion is entirely deranged, 
 and still I have to write — and for a public that does not 
 care for my work. These were the thoughts that used 
 to give me such alarm at your craving to wield the pen. 
 As for me, I have failed, and I find little to make the end 
 undesirable. While I can be of service to my children, 
 I would stay, but no longer. There is nothing saddening 
 about death to a man of my age. But the thought of a 
 child of mine having the prospect of life extinguished 
 in his youth, is a cruel anguish. Hitherto my lungs have 
 worked soundly. — Nothing but the stomach has ever 
 been weak. Unhappily this is a form of weakness that 
 incessant literary composition does not agree with. 
 
 As to meeting you on the Continent, I wish I could 
 give myself the anticipation of doing so. It would 
 brighten me, I cannot say yes, but will not yet say 
 decisively no, for it may happen that I shall be able to 
 come. In that case, I suppose the place of meeting 
 would bo Strasburg or Basle. You may be sure I would 
 not walk you overmuch. However, for two or three 
 weeks I will not speak of it. Give me early the exact 
 date of your leaving Lille, 
 
 It pleases me to hear that you will be with Janet, ^ 
 
 ' Mrs. Ross, who, on leaving Egypt with her husband, had settled 
 on the outskirts of Florence.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 319 
 
 probably at the time of vintage in Italy, of which she is 
 enthusiastic. Our dear friend Tom Taylor was there 
 with her one Autumn. We have lost him. I felt the 
 loss keenly. You may not have seen a sonnet ^ I wrote 
 on him in the ' Cornhill Magazine.' Sometimes it used 
 to strike me that writings of mine might fall under your 
 eye. Have you any taste for verse or light literature ? 
 There is no harm if not, except that it helps to freshness 
 of style and elegance in graver writings. 
 
 We have been long estranged, my dear boy, and I 
 awake from it with a shock that wrings me. The elder 
 should be the first to break through such divisions, for 
 he knows best the tenure and the nature of life. But our 
 last parting gave me the idea that you did not care for 
 me ; and further, I am so driven by work that I do 
 not contend with misapprehension of me, or with dis- 
 regard, but have the habit of taking it from all alike, as 
 a cab -horse takes the whip. Part of me has become 
 torpid. The quality of my work does not degenerate ; 
 I can say no more. Only in my branch of the profession 
 of letters the better the work the worse the pay, and 
 also, it seems, the lower the esteem in which one is held 
 for it. 
 
 I shall hope to hear from you soon. Writing bent 
 over a desk cannot be good for you, therefore do not 
 write me long letters. A few lines of your state of health 
 will be enough. 
 
 We should all have had delight in welcoming you 
 home, but your project is in every way advisable. Try 
 to come to us next year in May or in June, for the 
 Summer. — By the way, when travelling, or anyr^^herc in 
 towns, and where you do not know the weUs, avoid the 
 drinking water. In France I take Eau de St. Galmier 
 
 » ' To a Friend Lost.'
 
 320 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 and in Germany the Seltzers : — water of mineral springs. 
 The ordinary water is corrupt — and here as well. Typhoid 
 is a common disease in consequence. Wherever you 
 settle see that your drinking water has been boiled. 
 
 I will write again next week. — It will be a grief to me 
 if I cannot meet you. I am in a dijQ&culty with the work 
 I am doing just now and behindhand with it, or I would 
 not hesitate. — ^Your loving father, George Meredith. 
 
 Mariette's kisses are blown to you, and my wife bids 
 me remember her to you affectionately. AU of us will 
 be rejoiced by any good tidings of you. 
 
 To Admiral Maxse. 
 
 Box Hill, Dorking, July 1881. 
 
 My dear Fred, — I did not go to salute the illustrious 
 of this people. Morley went, was introduced, found the 
 P. affable, cordial, simple, etc., and the Crown P. of G. 
 a model of manliness. He says the entertainment was 
 pleasant — good music. It would have required the 
 young-eyed cherubim in full choric response to attract 
 me to London. 
 
 I wish, however, that I had chit-chat to enliven your 
 Vichy dulness. I sent you a ' Daily News ' containing the 
 correspondence from Merv of the enterprising Donovan, 
 under the supposition that you don't have the paper 
 sent to you regularly in France. — While you are at 
 Vichy read Mdme. de Sevigne's Letters in relation to 
 the place. They are interesting, as indeed she always 
 is. Also a book by Emile Montegut contains an account 
 of Vichy that may point out unobserved things to be 
 admired. I read it in the ' R. des deux Mondes.' It is 
 one of a collection of articles on notable French spots. — / 
 
 /'
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 321 
 
 I hope you have had good news of Ivor. Will rowed 
 (at short warning) in the Westminster Eight against the 
 Leander Club the other da}', and writes that the training 
 and exercise have made him feel rather giant-hke, I have 
 good news of my boy Arthur. He starts for Strasburg 
 on the 1st August, and after a visit there he mounts the 
 Swiss or Tyrolese heights. He begs me to join him, but 
 this I fear won't be possible, or any holiday. I have two 
 Novels in hand, and of one there is a prospect for the 
 Cornhill. Perhaps it will be the duller for my dulness, 
 but I can't help that. I have been writing much verse. — 
 As to health, not vastly improved. The sameness of our 
 animal life here would counteract the sweet specifics. 
 Present my respects and remembrances to your i\Iother, 
 and write to me again. By the way, Bradlaugh threatens 
 to be foolish. The House is wrong, but this will make 
 two false steps on his part, and the unit against the 
 aggregate cannot afford one. The folly is to take strong 
 measures upon no popular sentiment to back him. — 
 Yours warmly, George Meredith. 
 
 To Arthur G. Meredith . 
 
 Box Hill, Doeking, Juhj 27, 1881. 
 
 My dear Arthur, — I have gone through the abstract 
 of your essay with an awakened interest. It is deeply 
 thought, ingenious (in the best sense), and sets me looking 
 for a complete work. With most of the statements I 
 can agree. I myself am, as a describer of nature and 
 natural emotions, a constant sufferer in dealing with 
 a language part of which is dead matter. — You will do 
 good service in directing attention to the point, though 
 I do not see how our English is to be vitalized throughout. 
 
 VOL. I. — X
 
 822 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 — 1 fancy still that you are in danger of overlooking the 
 large admixture of Celtic blood in the English race. 
 Irish and Cambrian have a portion of them under that 
 banner. — But this does not affect your argument, but 
 strengthens it if you succeed in showing to satisfaction 
 that the English manifest themselves Teutonly. As far 
 as I observe them, the heart of the nation is Teuton 
 and moral, and therewith intellectually obtuse, next to 
 speechless. It has, however, a shifty element, and a 
 poetic : and this tells again for you, that the poetic, 
 seeming to come from our Celtic blood, flies at once to 
 the well-springs of the tongue whenever it is in need of 
 vital imagery. — I wish I had time to discuss it. I am 
 hard driven. 
 
 Whether I can come to you hangs doubtful. I am 
 half bound to work for the ' Cornhill ' ; and as I am un- 
 popular I am ill-paid, and therefore bound to work 
 double tides, hardly ever able to lay do\\-n the pen. 
 This affects my weakened stomach, and so the round of 
 the vicious circle is looped. I will come — be sure, if I 
 find it prudently possible. The course I should like 
 would be to Munich, Innsbruck, over the Brenner to one 
 of the heights in view of the Dolomites and thence around. 
 At Primiero or San Martino excellent quarters may be 
 had, and I long for Italian colour with mountain air. 
 Yet I could not enjoy it under pressure of work to finish 
 or a holiday stolen ; I have lost my old buoyancy. — Keep 
 me informed of your whereabouts and your route. Pray 
 do not tax your strength or expose yourself to night air 
 in travelling, if avoidable. In a couple of months pre- 
 cautions may not be so necessary. — Here at home I am 
 urged to join you, and it is no fault of the family that I 
 am not off at once. The time for starting would be 
 toward the latter end of August 20-25th. But to preclude
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 323 
 
 disappointment, rather think that you will not see me 
 than that vou will. 
 
 What do you say to sitting down in the winter on the 
 Riviera to write a brief sketch of your essaj'^ in a couple 
 of papers for the ' Fortnightly Review ' ? I can guarantee 
 that I\Ir. Morley would give due attention to any work 
 from a son of mine, and in the ' Fortnightly ' it would have 
 the choicest circle of readers. Subsequently, you could 
 enlarge it for publication in a volume. — I believe that at 
 Mentone a Dr. George Macdonald ^ lives, a writer of mark, 
 to whom an introduction could be got for you. — Perhaps 
 if the Autumn is denied to me, I might have a taste of 
 the Riviera in the winter. I was there the year before 
 last in September. Adieu. My warmest wishes and 
 prayers are with you. — Your loving father, 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To Arthur 0. Meredith. 
 
 Box Hill, Doeking, August 5, 1881. 
 
 My dear Arthur, — By this post I have sent you a 
 ' Fortnightly Review ' containing an article by Grant 
 -Vllcn, a writer of some distinction, upon the English race. 
 He thinks that Celtic blood preponderates. I do not, 
 though I see it flooding. To mix among people is to 
 have another lesson by experience. — However, the essay 
 mav be of use to you, 
 
 I rejoice that j'ou have flown, and am as glad of your 
 release as if I had personally risen singing on the free 
 air. It pleases mc to think of your visiting old Stuttgart 
 and meditating on youthful impressions there. I re- 
 member regretting your aversion to Berne ; for we lose 
 the proper sense of the richness of life if we do not look 
 
 ' /vuthor of At the Back of the North Wind, Annals of a Quiet 
 Neighbourhood, etc.
 
 324 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 back on scenes of our youth with imaginative warmth. — 
 There are several ways, all attractive, of entering Tyrol 
 from the basis of little Constance. Either by Munich 
 and Innsbriick, or from Bregenz over the Vorarlberg and 
 down to Stanger Thai to Landeck — which you may not 
 have quite forgotten, or taking the rail from Lindau to 
 Kemp ten, through Reutte and Lermoos to Nassereith in 
 the Oberinnthal, a day's walk from Innsbriick, whence 
 over the Brenner to Bozen, where you command routes to 
 the Dolomites, the loveliest scenes in Europe. Should you 
 (and I not with you) go to Cortina d'Ampezzo, you will 
 probably meet a neighbour of mine living in a big house 
 on Mickleham Downs — a IMr. Dixon. His two daughters 
 are with him ; very amiable, rather shy, intelligent. 
 He is an enthusiastic traveller in Italy and the Alps 
 of old date. He recommended San Martino — half a day 
 from Cortina or more — to me if I should be able to 
 come. I begin to have a touch of despair, my work gets 
 on so slowly, and I must hand in a certain quantity by 
 the end of October. If not this Autumn, I may be at 
 liberty for a run to the Riviera in the winter. But I dare 
 not project. The Fates have destined me for a cab-horse, 
 and I find myself getting the jogging soul as well as the 
 pace over everlasting sameness. — Give my warm regards 
 to your hostess, my compliments to her husband. A 
 trip to the Vosges offers good prospects for walking. I 
 know only the kind of scenery. Communicate with me 
 as you proceed, but let the wish be subordinate to your 
 leisure. — By the way, did I tell you of my receiving a 
 letter from one signing himself Guglielmo Meredith Read 
 Cabral, claiming mc for his cousin ? He writes from 
 Lisbon. His sister married Costa Cabral formerly Prime 
 Minister, now Marchese and Ambassador of Portugal at 
 Rome. I knew of them. It seems that Madame Cabral
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 325 
 
 got sight of one or other of my works and hit on the idea 
 that I was a cousin worth noticing. Of course I wrote 
 courteously, and groan now under the debt of another 
 letter. Adieu, mj^ dear boy. Be careful of your health, 
 and do not relax precautions because of a brave spirit 
 and better signs. — Your loving father, 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To Admiral 2Iaxsc. 
 
 Box Hill, Sept. 27, 18S1. 
 
 My dear Fred, — You are always kind, and I should be 
 glad to come, but for the present I am better here. — I 
 am coming round, and in a day or two work will no longer 
 be interdicted. I begin to feel my brain once more. — 
 Your mother has asked me to spend some days at Effing- 
 ham Hill when you are there. This will suit me — if you 
 can make up your mind to it. I had to leave the Hill 
 on Sunday, as I was not fit society for man or brute, 
 scarce for myself in my chalet. Some day I should very 
 much like to visit you at Eastbourne. Adieu. I have 
 many letters to write, and can hardly get through with 
 them. — Hardman speaks of the ' Penny M. Post ' as an 
 * astounding success,' and Sir Algernon as the Coming 
 Millionaire. What English public would not pay a 
 penny to read all about the aristocracy ! — Your loving 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 To M. Andre Raffahvich. 
 
 Box Hill, Dorking, 
 England, 2\ov. 7, 1S81. 
 
 Sir, — I have been absent from home on a round of 
 visits, and I beg you will accept it as my apology to 
 you for the backwardness of this reply to your letter. 
 If my letters were commonly of so pleasant a nature I
 
 326 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 should give the order when leaving home for them to be 
 sent in pursuit of me. 
 
 I venture to judge by j^our name that you are at most 
 but half English. I can consequently believe in tbo 
 feeling you express for the work of an unpopular writer. 
 Otherwise one would incline to be sceptical, for the 
 English are given to practical jokes, and to stir up the 
 vanity of authors who are supposed to languish in the 
 shade amuses them. There is en revanche great en- 
 thusiasm for the popular. You ha,ve probably had 
 sufficient experience upon these points from the Editors 
 of Reviews to whom you have applied. Your apprecia- 
 tion of my work does me great honour, but when I think 
 of your wasting time in the effort to make my work more 
 widely known, I am distressed. Good work has a fair 
 chance to be recognised in the end, and if not, what does 
 it matter ? The only concern one should have is for 
 the personal assurance that one has done one's best. 
 
 Do not suppose that I wish to chill your generous 
 warmth. I am touched by it, and so much that I could 
 desire it to have a worthier object ; for a man capable 
 of admiring as you appear to be, should have but our 
 noblest in his heart, and only a nod of encouragement 
 for members of the lesser order. At least I may hope 
 that you will not in after years have to accuse my work 
 of vitiating your taste for higher literature. You see, I 
 have assumed you to be young as well as foreign in some 
 degree. Only the j^oung, the very young, and the quick 
 of blood can write as you have done. Think well of me 
 for as long as you are able to without repressing your 
 growing capacity for criticism. 
 
 I am, with my hearty thanks to you for obeying the 
 good impulse to write to me, your most faithful and 
 obliged George Meredith.
 
 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 327 
 
 To Admiral Maxse. 
 
 Box Hill, Dec. 1, 1881. 
 
 MydearFred, — It is distressing news of the Governor.^ 
 I had fears about the chmate. Olive " has vouth in 
 her favour, but it will relieve me to hear that she is 
 better. 
 
 As for me, I am heavily struck, improving very slowly, 
 if real improvement be possible. Hutchinson seems to 
 understand the case, but whether I owe my present 
 working condition to medicine, and the cessation of it 
 wiU leave me stranded, I can't guess. 
 
 The name * Avalon ' is pretty. I like it. — I am in har- 
 ness to my novel. Poetry comes easier than prose and 
 bedevils me. If I could work longer at a stretch I should 
 the sooner get released and have a chance of recovery. 
 
 Let me see you when you come to Effingham. Perhaps 
 you will give me a bed one night in London, some time 
 in January or the next month. 
 
 Morley seems to me very spirited — keen of brain. He 
 also has his physical trials, I regret to think, but gout 
 is a good-natured giant to contend with, on the whole — 
 or that is my view. I hope you are fairly well. — Your 
 loving George M. 
 
 To Admiral Maxse. 
 
 Box Hill, Dec. 26, 1881. 
 
 My dear Fred, — I have the ill-luck to be engaged to 
 dinner-tables in the valley — have had also to write to 
 Morley of a previous engagement to the Board, where 
 we sit like convicts — fine specimens of the Joy of earth, 
 
 ^ Admiral Maxse's elder brother, Sir Fitzhardinge Maxse, had been 
 Governor of Heligoland, and was Governor of Newfoundland at that 
 time. 
 
 * Miss Maxse, elder daughter of Admiral Maxae.
 
 328 LETTERS OF GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 with every fruit of earth to excite. But Soul is wanting 
 here. 
 
 Telegraph the hour in the afternoon when one may 
 find you at Dorking Station ; I may see you for half an 
 hour. — Brighton did me good service. If I had leisure 
 and could find liveliness, I think I might come round, — 
 Your loving George Meredith. 
 
 To Admiral Maxse. 
 
 Box Hill, Dec. 27, 1881. 
 
 My dear Fred, — I have sent a letter to Rutland, but 
 have heard sub sequent I}'' that we had no Post out on 
 Boxing Day. — We are heavil}' bound to the people here 
 by engagements to dine with them. The fever of hos- 
 pitality lasts till the end of next week. I wish I could 
 be with you at Effingham. However, I am decidedly 
 better. Brighton served me well. The air blew in from 
 sea, and I was on pier or parade all the hours of light/ — 
 and not using my pen. The translation shall be attended 
 to. — I will meet you on Thursday at the top of Cubitt's 
 Avenue. Further I shall not be able to drag my legs, 
 as the malady seems to be nervous, affecting the spine, 
 and I begin to feel my legs labouring after an hour of 
 motion. — I have had curious letters from a Russian, who 
 has written on my books in the ' Journal de St. Peters- 
 bourg ' and the ' Gaulois ' : a M. Andre Raffalovich. Is it 
 perchance you who have put him on me ? — Reply as to 
 our meeting, and appoint to meet as near my cottage as 
 you can. Olive, I hope, is going on favourably. Sorry 
 to miss a sight of the boys. Present my respects very 
 warmly to my lady. — Your loving 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 end of vol. 1
 
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