LETTERS OF MATTHEW ARNOLD
LETTERS
OF
MATTHEW ARNOLD
1848-1888
COLLECTED AND ARRANGED
BY
GEORGE W. E. RUSSELL
' O world, as God has made it ! All is beauty :
And knowing this is love, and love is duty."
VOL. I.
gork
MACMILLAN AND CO.
AND LONDON
1895
Republished, 1968
Scholarly Press - 560 Cook Road - Grosse Pointe, Michigan 48236
COPYRIGHT, 1895,
BY MACMILLAN AND CO.
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 5-11105
Paper used in this edition is
a fine acid-free, permanent/durable paper
of the type commonly referred to as
"300-year" paper
TO
HENRY MONTAGU BUTLER, D.D.
MASTER OF TRINITY
WITH GEATEFUL RECOLLECTION
OF FRIENDSHIPS FORMED AT HARROW
1867-1872
PREFATORY NOTE.
THE congenial task of collecting and arranging
these Letters was undertaken in obedience to the
wish of Mrs. Matthew Arnold, and of her sisters-
in-law Mrs. Forster and Miss Arnold of Fox How.
It was Matthew Arnold's express wish that he
might not be made the subject of a Biography.
His family, however, felt that a selection from
his Letters was not prohibited ; and that such
a selection might reveal aspects of his character
his tenderness and playfulness and filial affec-
tion which could be only imperfectly appre-
hended through the more formal medium of his
published works. He maintained a constant cor-
respondence with his nearest relations, and from
that correspondence most of these Letters have
been taken. It will be seen that they are essen-
tially familiar and domestic, and were evidently
written without a thought that they would ever
be read beyond the circle of his family. Several
additions, of great interest and value, have been
made by the kindness of friends, who have also
helped the Editor in fixing dates and interpreting
allusions.
vii
viii PREFATORY NOTE.
For those who knew Matthew Arnold, the pecul-
iar charm of his letters lies in their perfect natu-
ralness. They are, in a word, himself; and there
can be no higher praise. A more genuinely amia-
ble man never lived. Nature had given him a
sunny temper, quick sympathy, and inexhaustible
fun. But something more than nature must have
gone to make his constant unselfishness, his manly
endurance of adverse fate, his buoyancy in breast-
ing difficulties, his unremitting solicitude for the
welfare and enjoyment of those who stood nearest
to his heart. Self-denial was the law of his life,
yet the word never crossed his lips. He revelled
in doing kindness, never more than when the re-
cipient was a little child, or an overworked school-
mistress, or a struggling author. He taxed his
ingenuity to find words of encouragement and
praise for the most immature and unpromising
efforts. He was even passionately loyal to old
association, and to have helped or cared for those
who were dear to him was a sure passport to his
affection. The magnificent serenity of his demean-
our concealed from the outside world, but never
from his friends, his boyish appreciation of kind-
ness, of admiration, of courteous attention.
His faculty of enjoyment was peculiarly keen,
and there were few departments of life which it
did not touch. Before all else, he was a worshipper
of Nature, watching all her changing aspects with
a loverlike assiduity, and never happy in a long-
continued separation from her. Then his manifold
culture and fine taste enabled him to appreciate at
PREFATORY NOTE. ix
its proper value all that is good in high civilization ;
and yet the unspoilt naturalness of his character
found a zest in the most commonplace pleasures of
daily existence. Probably Art, whether in music
or in painting, affected him less than most men of
equal cultivation; but there never lived a human
being to whom Literature and Society books and
people taking each word in its most comprehen-
sive sense, yielded a livelier or a more constant joy.
As we think of him, endearing traits of character
come crowding on the memory his merry interest
in his friends' concerns ; his love of children ; his
kindness to animals ; his absolute freedom from
bitterness, rancour, and envy ; his unstinted admi-
ration of beauty and cleverness; his frank enjoy-
ment if light and colour, of a happy phrase, an apt
quotation, a pretty room, a well-arranged dinner,
a fine vintage; his childlike pleasure in his own
performances " Did I say that ? How good that
was ! "
But all these trifling touches of character-paint-
ing tend to overlay and perhaps to obscure the true
portraiture of Matthew Arnold. He was pre-emi-
nently a good man ; gentle, generous, enduring, labo-
rious ; a devoted husband, a most tender father, an
unfailing friend.
Qualified by nature and training for the highest
honours and successes which the world can give, he
spent his life in a long round of unremunerative
drudgery, working even beyond the limits of his
strength for those whom he loved, and never by
word or sign betraying even a consciousness of that
X PREFATORY NOTE.
dull indifference to his gifts and services which
stirred the fruitless indignation of his friends. His
theology, once the subject of some just criticism,
seems now a matter of comparatively little moment ;
for, indeed, his nature was essentially religious.
He was loyal to truth as he knew it, loved the light
and sought it earnestly, and by his daily and hourly
practice gave sweet and winning illustration of his
own doctrine that conduct is three-fourths of human
life.
One personal reminiscence may not unfitly close
this sketch.
In 1868 Matthew Arnold lost his eldest son, a
schoolboy at Harrow. I was with the bereaved
father on the morning after the boy's death, and
the author with whom he was consoling himself
was Marcus Aurelius. Eeaders of the Essays in
Criticism will remember the beautiful eulogy on
that great Seeker after God, and will, perhaps, feel
that, in describing him, the friend who speaks to
us in the following pages half-unconsciously de-
scribed himself. "We see him wise, just, self-
governed, tender, thankful, blameless, yet with all
this agitated, stretching out his arms for some-
thing beyond tendentemque manus ripce ulterioris
amore"
My anxious desire has been that no handiwork
of mine should impertinently obtrude itself be-
tween the writer and his readers, or obscure the
effect of his unique and fascinating character.
I have therefore added nothing beyond such notes
as were necessary to make the allusions intelli-
PREFATORY NOTE. XI
gible, and the narrative coherent. In this connex-
ion I must specially acknowledge the help which
I have obtained from Mr. Thomas Burnett Smart,
and his excellent Bibliography of Matthew Arnold.
Here and there, I have been constrained, by defer-
ence to living susceptibilities, to make some slight
excisions ; but, with regard to the bulk of the
Letters, this process had been performed before
the manuscript came into my hands.
G. W. E. B.
Michaelmas 1895.
LETTERS OF MATTHEW ARNOLD
MATTHEW ARNOLD was born on Christmas Eve,
1822, the eldest son of Thomas Arnold and his wife
Mary Penrose. His birthplace was Laleham, in the
valley of the Thames, where his father took pupils
till he was elected to the Head-Mastership of Rugby
in 1828. In 1830 Matthew Arnold returned from
Rugby to Laleham, as a pupil of his uncle, the Rev.
John Buckland ; and in August 1836 he entered
" Commoners " at Winchester, under Dr. Moberly,
afterwards Bishop of Salisbury. Dr. Arnold, him-
self a Wykehamist, wished that his son should
receive the full benefit of that austere system
which was then in its heyday at* Winchester. But
the clever little boy took so good a place in the
school that he was beyond the reach of fagging;
and Dr. Arnold removed his son from Winchester
at the end of a year. Matthew Arnold entered
Rugby School in August 1837, living under his
father's roof at the School-House. In 1840 he won
a school-prize with his first published poem, " Alaric
at Rome," and in the same year he was elected to
an open Classical Scholarship at Balliol. In June
1841 he won a School-Exhibition, and left Rugby ;
and he went up to Oxford in the following October,
VOL. 1, B 1
2 TO HIS MOTHER.
In 1842 he won the Hertford Scholarship. In
1843 he won the Newdigate Prize with his poem
on "Cromwell." In 1844 he obtained a Second
Class in the Final Classical Schools; and he was
elected a Fellow of Oriel on March 28, 1845. For
a short time he took classical work in the Fifth
Form at Rugby, and in 1847 he was appointed
Private Secretary to Lord Lansdowne, then Lord
President of the Council.
From this point the Letters may be left to tell
their own tale.
To his Mother.
LONDON, January 2, 1848.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I write this in my stage
between Laleham and Bowood l to say that I hope
to come home in about a week from this time ; to-
morrow week perhaps. I go to Bowood by the
2 P.M. train to-morrow, to arrive by dinner-time.
I do. not expect I shall know a soul there. Last
Monday I went to Laleham. I found Aunt 2 in her
room, and looking very feverish and unwell, but she
improved every day I was there. It was nearly
dark when I left the Weybridge Station, but I
could make out the wide sheet of the gray Thames
gleaming through the general dusk as I came out
on Chertsey Bridge. I never go along that shelv-
ing gravelly road up towards Laleham without in-
terest, from Chertsey Lock to the turn where the
drunken man lay. To-day, after morning church, I
went up to Pentonhook, and found the stream with
1 Lord Langdowue'g house in Wiltshire, ? Mrs. Buckland,
TO HIS MOTHER. 3
the old volume, width, shine, rapid fulness, " kemp-
shott," 1 and swans, unchanged and unequalled, to
my partial and remembering eyes at least. On
the Hook itself they have been draining and cut-
ting a little ; but the old paved part of the barge
road on the Laleham side of the Lock-house is all
as it was, and the campanulas, they told me, grow
as much as evr there in summer. Yesterday I
was at Chertsey, the poetic town of our childhood
as opposed to the practical, historical Staine's : it is
across the river, reached by no bridges and roads,
but by the primitive ferry ; the meadow path, the
Abbey river with its wooden bridge and the narrow
lane by the old wall ; and, itself the stillest of coun-
try towns backed by St. Ann's, leads nowhere, but
to the heaths and pines of Surrey f How unlike
the journey to Staines, and the great road through
the flat, drained Middlesex plain, with its single
standing pollarded elms ! I was yesterday at the
old house and under the cedars and by the old pink
acacia. I went to see Mrs. Powell and Mrs. Nokes,
the first of whom, at eighty, recalls her charwoman
days, and her puff paste which did not give satis-
faction because Mr. Buckland preferred short paste
and thanks the dear Lord that she can still do
for herself. The second is in extreme feebleness,
but she, too, remembered the Whitmonday on which
that nice man, Mr. Arnold, when no one came from
Staines, took the duty himself, etc., etc. I must
stop; good-night, with love to all, ever your affec-
tionate M. ARNOLD.
1 A landing-stage.
4 TO HIS MOTHER.
To the Same.
Tuesday (March 7, 1848).
DEAR MAMMA You need not return the
National; I send you the Examiner with an
article 1 of Carlyle's. How deeply restful it comes
upon one, amidst the hot dizzy trash one reads
about these changes everywhere. I send Price's 2
letter. I think I thought much the same about the
decisive point of ruin to the King's 3 affairs. As
for his conscience, I incline to think he was only
old and nervous. Certainly, taken individually,
the French people, no more than one's own, are up
to the measure of the ideal citizen they seem to
propose to themselves ; this thought constantly
presses on me, but the question to be tried is
whether the proclamation of this ideal city and
public recognition of it may not bring a nation
nearer to that measure than the professedly un-
believing Governments hitherto for some time in
force everywhere. The source of repose in Car-
lyle's article is that he alone puts aside the din and
whirl and brutality which envelop a movement of
the masses, to fix his thoughts on its ideal invisible
character. I was in the great mob in Trafalgar
Square 4 yesterday, whereof the papers will instruct
you; but they did not seem dangerous, and the
1 On " Louis Philippe." The Examiner, March 4, 1848.
2 Bonamy Price, afterwards Professor of Political Economy
at Oxford.
3 Louis Philippe, King of the French, dethroned by the Rev-
olution of 1848.
4 Riots in Trafalgar Square, March 6 and 7, 1818.
TO HIS SISTER. 5
police are always, I think, needlessly rough in
manner. English officials too often are. It will
be rioting here, only ; still the hour of the heredi-
tary peerage and eldest sonship and immense prop-
erties has, I am convinced, as Lamartine would
say, struck. You know I think papa would by
this time have been a kind of Saint Martin the
writer, not the Saint proper. But I do not think
England will be liveable-in just yet. I see a wave
of more than American vulgarity, moral, intel-
lectual, and social, preparing to break over us.
In a few years people will understand better why
the French are the most civilised of European
peoples, when they see how fictitious our manners
and civility have been, how little inbred in the
race. Ever yours, M. ARNOLD.
To his. Eldest Sister, afterwards Mrs. Forster.
LANSDOWNE HOUSE, Friday, March 10, 1848.
MY DEAREST K. 1 My excuse for not answering
you, dear child, must be that not having been pri-
vately disposed lately, it mattered little, I thought,
to whom my public general chronicles or remarks
were addressed. Would that I were coming home.
It is so hard to sequester oneself here from the rush
of public changes and talk, and yet so unprofitable
to attend to it. I was myself tempted to attempt
some political writing the other day, but in the
watches of the night I seemed to feel that in that
direction I had some enthusiasm of the head per-
1 A pet name, dating from the nursery.
6 TO HIS SISTER.
haps, but no profound stirring. So I desisted,
and have only poured forth a little to Clough, 1 we
two agreeing like two lambs in a world of wolves.
I think you would have liked to see the corre-
spondence.
What agitates me is this, if the new state of things
succeeds in France, social changes are inevitable here
and elsewhere, for no one looks on seeing his neigh-
bour mending without asking himself if he cannot
mend in the same way; but, without waiting for
the result, the spectacle of France is likely to breed
great agitation here, and such is the state of our
masses that their movements now can only be brutal
plundering and destroying. And if they wait, there
is no one, as far as one sees, to train them to con-
quer, by their attitude and superior conviction; the
deep ignorance of the middle and upper classes,
and their feebleness of vision becoming, if possible,
daily more apparent. You must by this time begin
to see what people mean by placing France politi-
cally in the van of Europe ; it is the intelligence of
their idea-moved masses which makes them, politi-
cally, as far superior to the insensible masses of
England as to the Russian serfs, and at the same
time they do not threaten the educated world with
the intolerable laideur of the well-fed American
masses, so deeply anti-pathetic to continental Eu-
rope. Remark this to Miss Martineau 2 cursorily.
1 Arthur Hugh Clough, commemorated by Matthew Arnold
in Thyrsis.
2 Harriet Martineau was a neighbour of the Arnolds at Fox
How, their home in Westmorland.
TO HIS MOTHER. 7
But I do not say that these people in France
have much dreamed of the deepest wants of man,
or are likely to enlighten the world much on the
subject, and I do not wonder at Guizot, who is an
austerely serious man, rather despising them. In-
deed, I believe he had got, with the spectacle of
corruption and meanness round him, to despise the
whole human race pretty roundly ; and as, though
he never took bribes, he let his creatures bribe
others, so, though he would have never lied to his
own soul, he passed on a lie from the king to others
now and then with a sardonic indifference. This
is all he is accused of in the Spanish affair; the
king lied to him at first, and when he found it out,
instead of leaving office, he brazened out the affair.
You know he must have despised such an ineffectual
set as Lord Normanby * and the English Govern-
ment men, who, between them all, never had a
thought in their lives. He lives quite retired here,
they say, not even seeing the king. I cannot help
thinking of Lucan's famous line, Victrix causa Deis
placuit, sed victa Catoni. Be kind to the neigh-
bours, " this is all we can." Ever yours,
M. ARNOLD.
To his Mother.
Wednesday (April 1848).
DEAR MAMMA Don't trouble yourself to send
me papers. I see all papers at clubs, and so forth.
To say the truth, the responsibility of sending back
a paper weighs on my mind. The National of yes-
1 Our Ambassador at Paris.
8 TO HIS MOTHER.
terday reports that London was en pleine insurrec-
tion* Do you wish for the National always, or
only when I think it interesting? I saw Emerson
the other day, and had a very pleasant interview.
I did not think him just to Wordsworth. He had
a very just appreciation of Miss Martineau, which
indeed no man of a certain delicacy of intellectual
organisation can fail to have. He said Carlyle was
much agitated by the course of things; he had
known, he said, a European revolution was inevi-
table, but had expected the old state of things
to last out his time. He gives our institutions,
as they are called, aristocracy, Church, etc., five
years, I heard last night ; long enough, certainly,
for patience, already at death's door, to have to
die in. I was at the Chartist convention 2 the
other night, and was much struck with the ability
of the speakers. However, I should be sorry to
live under their government nor do I intend to
though Nemesis would rejoice at their triumph.
The ridiculous terror of people here is beyond
belief, and yet it is not likely, I fear, to lead to
any good results. Tell Miss Martineau it is said
here that Monckton Milnes 8 refused to be sworn in
a special constable that he might be free to assume
the post of President of the Kepublic at a moment's
notice. Ever yours, M. ARNOLD.
1 A great gathering of Chartists assembled on Kennington
Common, April 10, 1848.
2 A National Convention of Chartist Delegates sat in London,
April and May 1848.
8 Afterwards Lord Houghton.
TO HIS SISTER. 9
To his Eldest Sister.
LANSDOWNE HOUSE, Tuesday (May 1848).
MY OWN DEAREST K. I am writing here (6 J
P.M.), till Lord L. comes back from the House;
but if he does not arrive by 6J he begged me to go.
I have not opened my great table to write to you,
but I have set my paper on an account of Scinde,
and hold this on my knee. It is beginning to grow
dusk, but it has been a sweet day, with sun and a
playing wind and a softly broken sky. The cro-
cusses, which have long starred the lawn in front
of the windows, growing like daisies out of the
turf, have nearly vanished but the lilacs that
border the court are thrusting their leaves out to
make amends.
" The clouds of sickness cast no stain upon
Her vallies and blue hills :
The Doubt, that assails all things, never won
This faithful impulse of unfaithful wills."
It gets more and more gray and indistinct, and
the musical clock behind me is quickening its pace
in preparation for its half -hour peal I shut this
up and go.
To the Same.
Wednesday (May 1848).
After all my dressing, when I arrived at the
Bunsens last night pursuant to invitation, the ser-
vant told me they had put off their parties, the
Prince of Prussia 1 having just arrived ; so back I
1 William, Prince of Prussia, and afterwards German Em-
peror, had taken refuge in London from the mob of Berlin, and
was living with the Chevalier Bunseu at the Prussian Embassy.
10 TO HIS MOTHER.
trundled, walked the streets a little while, tried
to read a grammar, even a novel, found myself
too feverish, and actually went to bed at 10J, slept
like a top till 9, and am better to-day, so I avoid
all medicine.
How plain it is now, though an attention to the
comparative literatures for the last fifty years might
have instructed any one of it, that England is in a
certain sense far behind the Continent. In conver-
sation, in the newspapers, one is so struck with
the fact of the utter insensibility, one may say, of
people to the number of ideas and schemes now
ventilated on the Continent not because they
have judged them or seen beyond them, but from
sheer habitual want of wide reading and thinking :
like a child's intellectual attitude vis-&-vis of the
proposition that Saturn's apparent diameter sub-
tends an angle of about 18. Our practical virtues
never certainly revealed more clearly their isolation.
I am not sure but I agree in Lamartine's prophecy
that 100 years hence the Continent will be a great
united Federal Kepublic, and England, all her
colonies gone, in a dull steady decay. M. A.
To his Mother.
LONDON, May 7 (1848).
MY DEAREST MAMMA Though I believe the
balance of correspondence is in my favour at pres-
ent, I will write to you a few lines instead of sit-
ting idle till Lord L. summons me. I have just
finished a German book I brought with me here : a
TO HIS MOTHER. 11
mixture of poems and travelling journal by Hein-
rich Heine, the most famous of the young German
literary set. He has a good deal of power, though
more trick; however, he has thoroughly disgusted
me. The Byronism of a German, of a man trying
to be gloomy, cynical, impassioned, moqueur, etc.,
all d la'fois, with their honest bonhommistic lan-
guage and total want of experience of the kind that
Lord Byron, an English peer with access every-
where, possessed, is the most ridiculous thing in
the world. Goethe wisely said the Germans could
not have a national comedy because they had no
social life; he meant the social life of highly civil-
ised corrupt communities like Athens, Paris, or
London; and for the same reason they cannot have
a Byronic-poetry. I see the French call this Heine
a " Voltaire au clair de lune, " which is very happy.
I have been returning to Goethe's Life, and
think higher of him than ever. His thorough
sincerity writing about nothing that he had
not experienced is in modern literature almost
unrivalled. Wordsworth resembles him in this
respect; but the difference between the range of
their two experiences is immense, and not in the
Englishman's favour. I have also been again
reading Las Cases, and been penetrated with ad-
miration for Napoleon, though his southern reck-
lessness of assertion is sometimes staggering. But
the astonishing clearness and width of his views
on almost all subjects, and when he comes to prac-
tice his energy and precision in arranging details,
never struck me so much as now. His contest
12 TO HIS MOTHER.
with England is in the highest degree tragic. The
inability of the English of that time in any way to
comprehend him, and yet their triumph over him
and the sense of this contrast in his own mind
there lies the point of the tragedy. The num-
ber of ideas in his head which " were not dreamed
of in their philosophy," on government and the
future of Europe, and yet their crushing him, really
with the best intentions, but a total ignorance of him
what a subject ! But it is too near at hand to
be treated, I am afraid. To one who knew the
English, his fate must have seemed inevitable;
and therefore his plans must have seemed imper-
fect; but what foreigner could divine the union of
invincibility and speculative dulness in England?
Ever yours, M. A.
To the Same.
LOXDOX, Sunday, July 29, 1849.
MY DEAREST MAMMA I have been out very
little the last week, as nearly every one I know is
out of town. There was a sonnet of mine in last
week's Examiner "To the Hungarian Nation,"
but as it was not worth much I don't sent it. 1
Tell dearest K. I shall not forget her on Wednes-
day. I give her the new 1 vol. edition of Lock-
hart's Life of Scott, but it must wait for Edward 2
or me to bring it, as it is too big a book for the new
postal arrangements. What a book what a man !
I have read a good deal of biography lately
1 This sonnet was never reprinted.
2 His brother, Edward Penrose Arnold.
TO HIS SISTER. 13
Byron, Scott, Napoleon, Goethe, Burns. The 29th
of August this year is the centenary of Goethe's
birth. Let me add that I have finished the Iliad,
going straight through it, that is. I have within
this year read through all Homer's works, and all
those ascribed to him. But I have done little,
though more than most years, though I am getting
more of a distinct feeling as to what I want to
read; however, this, though a great step, is not
enough without strong command over oneself to
make oneself follow one's rule; conviction, as the
Westminster divines say, must precede conversion,
but does not imply it. Yours, a thousand times,
M. A.
To his Youngest Sister.
LONDON, Wednesday (1849).
MY DEAREST FAX Thank you for your letter.
When you come to Rugby I shall try and get there
to see you for a day. On Sunday afternoon I went
to Laleham, which you have never seen. In the
afternoon I went to Pentonhook with Uncle Buck-
land, Fan and Martha, and all the school following
behind, just as I used to follow along the same river
bank eighteen years ago. It changes less than any
place I ever go to. I should like to go there with
your sister Jane. Tell her the horse-chestnuts on
the lawn before the Hartwells looking to the river
and Chertsey were just going out of bloom. On
Monday morning I got up at half-past six, and
bathed with Hughes 1 in the Thames, having a
1 Thomas Hughes, author of Tom Brown's Schooldays.
14 TO WYNDHAM SLADE.
header off the " kempshott " where the lane from
the village comes down on the river, and at seven
1 was swimming in the Thames with the swans
looking at me.
Bournemouth on the Sea is a very stupid place ;
a great moorland covered with furze and low pine
woods comes down to the sea-shore, and breaks
down towards it in a long sweep of cliff, half sand,
half mud. There are no little bays and ins and
outs as in the Isle of Man, but to the right and left
you see one immense, gradually-curving line till
the coast ends in two ordinary headlands at great
distances on each side of you. A little brook runs
into the sea here, and my great amusement was to
hang upon the bridge and watch two little girls who
had laid a plank across the stream below me, almost
touching the water, the banks being on a level with
it, and kept running across it by turns, splashing
themselves by the jigging of the plank. Seeing
me watch them always made them go faster and
faster, till at last they were nearly wet through,
and went home to change. Yours, M. A.
To Wyndham Slade. 1
(1850).
DEAR SLADE I forgot to say last night that
you must breakfast here to-morrow, Sunday, at
10 pas plus tdt, because John Blackett 2 is coming,
who wishes to meet you. Ridiculous as such a
1 Afterwards a Police Magistrate in London.
2 John F. B. Blackett, M.P. for Newcastle 1852-1856.
TO MISS WIGHTMAN. 15
desire is, it is too unimportant for me to refuse
to gratify it. Your faithful servant,
M. ARNOLD.
Le kameai matin.
To Miss Wightman.
Fox How, AMBLESIDE,
Thursday Night (December 1850).
We left town in pouring rain came into light
snow at Blisworth deep snow at Tamworth
thaw at Whitmore storm of wind at Warrington,
and hard frost at Preston. This last continues. I
drove over from Windermere here 6 miles in
the early morning along the lake, and arrived like
an icicle. . . . Only my mother and my youngest
sister are at home. I heard family letters read
talked a little read a Greek book lunched
read Bacon's Essays wrote.
To the Same.
Fox How, December 21, 1850.
At seven came Miss Martineau and Miss Bronte
(Jane Eyre) ; talked to Miss Martineau (who blas-
phemes frightfully) about the prospects of the
Church of England, and, wretched man that I am,
promised to go and see her cow-keeping miracles 1
to-morrow I, who hardly know a cow from a
sheep. I talked to Miss Bronte (past thirty and
plain, with expressive gray eyes, though) of her
curates, of French novels, and her education in a
1 Some experiments on a farm of two acres.
16 TO MRS. FORSTER.
school at Brussels, and sent the lions roaring to
their dens at half-past nine, and came to talk
to you.
Lingen, 1 who is Education Secretary, and was
once my tutor at Oxford, and a genius of good
counsel to me ever since, says he means to write
me a letter of advice about inspectorships, apply-
ing to Lord Lansdowne, etc. Shall I send it on
to you?
To Mrs. W. E. Forster. 2
LONDON, January 25, 1851.
MY DEAREST K. Since you do not write to me
I must be the first. So long as I was at Fox How
I heard your letters, but in town, unless we write
to each other, I shall almost lose sight of you,
which must not be.
How strong the tendency is, though, as characters
take their bent, and lives their separate course, to
submit oneself gradually to the silent influence
that attaches us more and more to those whose
characters are like ours, and whose lives are run-
ning the same way with our own, and that detaches
us from everything besides, as if we could only
acquire any solidity of shape and power of acting
by narrowing and narrowing our sphere, and di-
minishing the number of affections and interests
which continually distract us while young, and hold
us unfixed and without energy to mark our place
in the world; which we thus succeed in marking
1 Afterwards Lord Lingen.
2 Jaue Arnold was married to W. E. Forster 1850.
TO MRS. FORSTER. 17
only by making it a very confined and joyless one.
The aimless and unsettled, but also open and lib-
eral state of our youth we must perhaps all leave
and take refuge in our morality and character ; but
with most of us it is a melancholy passage from
which we emerge shorn of so many beams that we
are almost tempted to quarrel with the law of
nature which imposes it on us.
I. feel this in my own case, and in no respect
more strongly than in my relations to all of you.
1 am by nature so very different from you, the
worldly element enters so much more largely into
my composition, that as I become formed there
seems to grow a gulf between us, which tends to
widen till we can hadly hold any intercourse across
it. But as Thomas a Kempis recommended, fre-
quenter tibi ipsi violentiam /ac, and as some philoso-
pher advised to consort with our enemies because
by them we were most surely apprised of our
faults, so I intend not to give myself the rein in
following my natural tendency, but to make war
against it till it ceases to isolate me from you, and
leaves me with the power to discern and adopt the
good which you have, and I have not.
This is a general preface to saying that I mean
to write about the end of every month, as I can at
the time, and I hope you, my dearest K., will do
the same.
I have not now left room for more than to say
I was grieved to hear of you at the water cure.
Kindest regards to William. Ever, dearest K.,
your most affectionate M. A,
VOL. I. C
18 TO MRS. FORSTER.
To the Same.
LONDON, Friday (January 1851).
MY DEAR K. I hope you have got the Tasso
by this time; I forget if you have the Poems of
Shakespeare I promised you; if not, they are still
somewhere in my room.
I have just read Goethe to Lavater with more
pleasure, I daresay, than you did. They, with the
letters to Mdme. von Stein, belong to his impulsive
youthful time, before he had quite finished build-
ing the Chinese Wall round his inneres which he
speaks of in later life. Those to Mdme. von Stol-
berg, or many of them, belong to the same time, I
believe, and I must get them.
I read his letters, Bacon, Pindar, Sophocles,
Milton, Th. a Kempis, and Ecclesiasticus, and
retire more and more from the modern world and
modern literature, which is all only what has been
before and what will be again, and not bracing or
edifying in the least. I have not looked at the
newspapers for months, and when I hear of some
new dispute or rage that has arisen, it sounds quite
historical; as if it was only the smiths at Ephesus
being alarmed again for their trade, when the
Bishops remonstrate against Cardinal Wiseman's
appearance 1 ; or Pompey blundering away his
chances, when I hear of the King of Prussia, with
such an army, getting himself and his country
more shackled and dconsider6 every day. Yours,
M. A.
1 A Roman Hierarchy for England, under Cardinal Wiseman,
decreed by the Pope, September 24, 1850.
TO MISS WIGHTMAN. 19
To Miss Wiglitman.
LONDON, February 21, 1851.
Ministers l have managed to get beaten by forty-
eight to-night by the Kadicals on a motion for
enlarging the franchise. Though such a vote
cannot drive them out, it makes their weakness
fearfully apparent.
February 22. I went, to Laleham and came
back to town at six, and drove straight to Lans-
downe House. There I found that Lord John had
postponed the Budget till Monday and that Lord
Lansdowne was not coming back to town till to-
morrow. To-morrow afternoon they will hold a
Cabinet, and settle whether to resign, remodel
themselves, try a little longer, or dissolve.
February 24. I have just heard the statement
in the House of Lords, and that Lord John has
undertaken to reconstruct a Government. It is
quite uncertain who will come in again with him
of the old lot. Lord Lansdowne is very much dis-
inclined to remain. The old set of Whigs can
never come in again; but a good many of them
may come in in a fresh combination, and very
likely Lord Lansdowne himself. People speculate
on a Clarendon Ministry. If Lord Clarendon comes
in Sugden 2 will be Chancellor not else ; he is far
too much committed on the Papal Aggression ques-
tion to come in with a Whig or Peelite Ministry
but why do you ask?
1 Lord John Russell's first Administration, 1846-1852.
2 Afterwards Lord St. Leonards.
20 TO HIS WIFE.
In 1851 Matthew Arnold was appointed by Lord
Lansdowne to an Inspectorship of Schools, and on
June 10 in that year he married Frances Lucy,
daughter of Sir William Wightman, one of the
judges of the Court of Queen's Bench.
To his Wife.
OLDHAM ROAD LANCASTERIAN SCHOOL,
MANCHESTER, October 15, 1851.
I think I shall get interested in the schools after
a little time ; their effects on the children are so
immense, and their future effects in civilising the
next generation of the lower classes, who, as things
are going, will have most of the political power of
the country in their hands, may be so important.
It is really a fine sight in Manchester to see the
anxiety felt about them, and the time and money
the heads of their cotton-manufacturing population
are willing to give to them. In arithmetic, geogra-
phy, and history the excellence of the schools I have
seen is quite wonderful, and almost all the children
have an equal amount of information ; it is not con-
fined, as in schools of the richer classes, to the one
or two cleverest boys. We shall certainly have a
good deal of moving about ; but we both like that well
enough, and we can always look forward to re-
tiring to Italy on 200 a year. I intend seriously
to see what I can do in such a case in the literary
way that might increase our income. But for the
next three or four years I think we shall both like
it well enough.
TO WYNDHAM SLADE.
To the Same.
21
QUEEN'S HOTEL, BIRMINGHAM,
December 2, 1851.
I have had a hard day. Thirty pupil teachers to
examine in an inconvenient room and nothing to eat
except a biscuit, which a charitable lady gave me.
I was asked to dinner, this time at five, but excused
myself on the ground of work. However, one's only
difficulty will be not to know the whole of schismat-
ical Birmingham. The schools are mostly in the
hands of very intelligent wealthy Unitarians, who
abound here, and belong to the class of what we call
ladies and gentlemen. This is next to Liverpool the
finest of the manufacturing towns : the situation high
and good, the principal street capital, the shops good,
cabs splendid, and the Music Hall unequalled by
any Greek building in England that I have seen.
To Wyndham Slade.
38 EATON PLACE (July 1852).
MY DEAR WYNDHAM I called at your lodgings
last Saturday, and found that Walrond l would not
be up, but that the trio at breakfast would be my-
self, you, and Captain " Apollyon " Slade. 2 I then
resolved to absent myself, as I do not like the taste
of brimstone in my tea.
With respect to the Salisbury election 3 it may be
as you say, but it is reported here that on the polling
1 Theodore Walrond, afterwards one of the Civil Service Com-
missioners.
2 Afterwards General Slade.
3 The General Election took place July 1852.
22 TO HIS MOTHER.
day Baring Wall, looking very nice, was closeted for
some hours with your brother's 1 committee, and
that afterwards all Slade's men voted for Wall.
I have been in North Lincolnshire, where there
is a sharp contest, and been much amused by talk-
ing to the farmers, and seeing how absolutely nec-
essary all the electioneering humbug of shaking
hands, clapping on the back, kissing wives and
children, etc., still is with these people. I think
Lord Derby will have a gain of from ten to twenty
votes in the new Parliament, but what that will do
for him remains to be seen.
The baby 2 is now squalling upstairs. . . .
Your brother is now willing to go to Stockholm,
he told me. Will this change your plans ? Let me
have a line when you can. Shall you not return
to town at all ? Ever yours from the heart,
M. A.
To his Mother.
HAMPTON, August 19, 1852.
MY DEAREST MOTHER Clough has been with
me for the last few days in Wales ; he is likely to
go to America in the autumn to try his fortune
there as a tutor. You will receive this, my dearest
mother, on the morning of your birthday. Accept
every loving and grateful wish from a son to whom
you have for nearly thirty years been such a mother
as few sons have. The more I see of the world the
more I feel thankful for the bringing up we had, so
1 Afterwards Sir Frederick Slade.
2 His eldest child, Thomas, was born July 6, 1852.
TO HIS WIFE. 23
unworldly, so sound, and so pure. God bless you,
my dear mother, and believe me your truly affec-
tionate child, M. ARNOLD.
Flu's 1 love and best wishes and baby's.
To his Wife.
RUGBY, August 27, 1852.
I have just come back from dining at the School-
House to write this to you. I found Shairp 2 had
engaged me there, and as Goulburn 3 had often asked
me, and I had never gone, I went to-night ; but I
was in a great fidget for fear of being prevented from
writing my letter. I cannot tell you how strange
the feeling was of dining in the old house, in the
very room where I used to sit after every one was
gone to bed composing my themes, because it was
such a pretty room, it was a pleasure to sit up in it.
Mrs. Goulburn is a very nice person, one of the
Northamptonshire Cartwrights. I sat next her at
dinner. It would be such a pleasure to go over with
you the places I knew from the time I was eight till
I was twenty. Then all the people who remember
me and my family would be so pleased to see you.
You would like to see where I used to play with my
brothers and sisters, and walk with the governess,
and bathe, and learn dancing and many other things.
We must certainly come here from Birmingham.
1 His wife.
2 J. C. Shairp, then a master at Rugby, and afterwards Prin-
cipal of St. Andrews.
8 Dr. Goulburn, Head Master of Rugby, and afterwards Dean
of Norwich.
24 TO WYNDIIAM SLADE.
To Wyndham Slade.
STRANDS, NEAR WASTWATER,
September 15, 1852.
MY DEAR WYNDHAM I only received your letter
this morning. Eaton Place * is a howling wilderness
at present, and letters may lie there for months be-
fore they are forwarded. I should not have got
yours now, only my wife had a dress sent to her,
and the old woman who takes care of the house
in Eaton Place crammed everything with my name
on it that she could lay her hands upon into the
box.
With respect to your questions, the Committee
of Council insist on boarded floor 8 ; but, worse still,
they insist on seeing and approving beforehand the
building plans for all schools they aid ; therefore,
if Lady Slade wants a grant to help her build her
school, she must apply before she begins it, for she
will get none afterwards. However, if she is only
anxious to get her school inspected, or to have
pupil teachers in it, or to have a certificated master
or mistress, any or alt of these luxuries she may
obtain though she builds her school herself, and
in her own fashion. But for the Committee to
give any assistance towards building or fittings,
they must first approve the building plans.
There I hope I have been intelligible.
I owed you a letter, which I was intending to
pay. Do you remember sleeping at this little inn
at the end of Wastwater two years ago, and going
1 Mr. Justice Wightman lived at 38 Eatoii Place.
TO WYNDHAM SLADE. 25
to Crummock and Buttermere next day ? I am
making the very same promenade now with my
wife ; I have just been looking at your name and
mine written in the Fremdenbuch in my hand.
How pleasant it was having you here. Couldn't
you come now if you are at home ? The partridges
must be getting wild, and we should be so glad to
see you. You are one of the few young gentlemen
of whom I have never got tired. Fanny Lucy l and
I are here till the 10th of October ; we shall be at
Fox How again at the end of this week. Write
me a line, then, and tell me whether you can
manage to be good and come. We will go and
see Edinburgh together; it is only. 4^- hours from
Fox How. Write at once. Ever yours affection-
ately, M. ARNOLD.
To the Same.
MR. SANSOM'S, DERBY, October 22, 1852.
MY DEAR WYNDHAM An infernal steel pen
which I must change. So now I can get on. I
presume you are^blazing away in your ancestral
fields. Need I say that I am passionately fond of
the Colchic bird, and that your rifle is, I know,
unerring? As for me, I shall never look along
the deadly tube again, I expect ; however, this will
be no great blessing for the brute creation, as I
never used to hit them.
I wish you could have been with us in West-
morland, as we had splendid weather, and many
1 His wife.
26 TO WYNDHAM SLADE.
days of wandering perfectly successful. Bo you
remember our week, and the fearful way in which
you used to blaspheme, as the daily saturation of
your raiment commenced on some lonely mountain
or other ? Next year I am going abroad, I think.
The child of my declining years, without brother
or sister, unique of his kind, will have apartments
at the Chateau de Lisbon, while his mother and I
seek September fevers in South Italy. Such, at
least, is our present intention.
I intend coming to the metropolis in a month's
time, and then I hope we shall meet ; I should so
like to sit and talk for an evening with you on
passing events. I have published some poems, 1
which, out of friendship, I forbear to send you;
you shall, however, if you are weak enough to
desire it, have them when we meet. Can you get
from Heimann the address of one William llossetti
for me ? an ingenuous youth who used to write
articles in a defunct review, the name of which I
forget. I write this very late at night, with S ,
a young Derby banker, tr&s sport, completing an
orgy in the next room. When that good young
man is calm these lodgings are pleasant enough.
You are to come and see me fighting the battle of
life as an Inspector of Schools some day ; this
next year I mean to make you fulfil the promise.
S is in a state of collapse. He will be very
miserable to-morrow. Good-night. Let me have
a line here, and believe me, ever yours sincerely,
M. ARNOLD.
1 Empcclocles on Etna, and otJwr Poems, by A. 1852.
TO HIS WIFE. 27
To his Mother.
DERBY, November 25, 1852.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I have been since Mon-
day at Lincoln, hard worked, but subsisting on the
Cathedral. Every evening as it grew dark I
mounted the hill to it, and remained through the
evening service in the nave or transepts, more
settled and refreshed than I could have been by
anything else. I came down the valley of the
Trent to-day. You have no idea what majestic
floods ! I asked a great deal about them ; the new
bank near Fledborough l has given way, and that
place and Eagnall and Dunham are all floating. I
astonished the country people by knowing the names
of the remote villages by there. I looked affection-
ately in the bright morning towards Fledborough ;
my recollections of it are the only approach I have
to a memory of a golden age. I thought how I
should like once more to see it with you, dearest
mother, and to look with you on the gray church,
and the immense meadow, and the sparkling Trent.
We will talk of it again, for it might be managed
from Coleby. Ever your affectionate son,
M. ARNOLD.
To his Wife.
BATTERSEA, Friday (December 1852).
This certainly has been one of the most uncom-
fortable weeks I ever spent. Battersea is so far
off, the roads so execrable, and the rain so inces-
1 His grandfather, the Rev. John Penrose, was Vicar of Fled-
borough, Notts: and his mother was married there in 1820.
28 TO HIS WIFE.
sant. I cannot bear to take my cab from London
over Battersea Bridge, as it seems so absurd to pay
eightpence for the sake of the half-mile on this
side; but that half-mile is one continued slough,
as there is not a yard of flagging, I believe, in all
Battersea. Did I tell you that I have papers sent
me to look over which will give me to the 20th
of January in London without moving, then for a
week to Huntingdonshire schools, then another
week in London for the Inspector's meeting and
other matters, and then Birmingham for a month,
and then London ?
To the Same.
THE BULL, CAMBRIDGE, February 28, 1853.
I have had a long tiring day, and it certainly
will be a relief when I get these Eastern Counties
over. The worst of it is that invitations to go and
see schools are rained upon me ; and managers who
have held out till now against the Government plan
ask me on my father's account to come and inspect
them, and to refuse is hard.
I have seen nothing of this place. I see there
is a long collegiate-looking building opposite. It
seems so strange to be in a place of colleges that
is not Oxford. You never knew such a scrape as
I had of it this morning; it was one minute past
the time when I drove up to Shoreditch, but they
let me in. To-day there was a stoppage in Smith-
field, and we had to go round by the Bank and
Austin Friars; all down Bishopsgate Street we
tore. What a filthy line is the Eastern Counties,
TO HIS WIFE. 29
and what bad carriages ! But how unjust the
world is to Essex !
I thought the valley of the Lea we came up this
morning delightful, arid the whole country very
nice till about Chesterford. At the station here I
had just time to eat a bun and book for St. Ives.
We arrived at the latter place at half-past two,
and I walked the two miles to Fenstanton, as it
would have been a long business waiting for a fly
to get ready. The school is a smallish affair, and
at a quarter to five I went to Mr. Coote's. He is
the principal man of the place, being a brewer and
coal merchant, and is a rich, clever Dissenter. He
has a nice old house, standing in grounds a little
out of the town. I met at dinner there another
Dissenter, who wanted to take me home to sleep,
and offered to send me to all my schools if I would
spend this week with him. He lives near Erith.
I refused, however, but next year I shall go to
him and Coote instead of coming to the inn here.
It the inn is a pretty good one apparently. I
have very good front rooms; it is a newer affair
altogether than the Angel. I am off early to-
morrow for Erith. I thought of you to-night as
I. drove through St. Ives, and of that bitter cold
uncomfortable journey this time last year.
To the Same.
CAMBRIDGE, March 2, 1853.
At ten I went to my school here, a very large
one, which kept me till past one ; then I came back
30 TO HIS WIFE.
here, and at two went out to look at the places.
At Trinity I found every one was absent whom I
knew, but at Christ's I luckily found Mr. Gell,
who is a fellow and tutor there, who was very glad
to see me; he was an old pupil of my father's, and
my father's picture was hanging in his room. He
took me all over Cambridge, and I have since dined
with him, and a Mr. Clark, the Proctor, has asked
me to dinner to morrow, but I shall not go, as I
think of going to Ely to see the Cathedral.
The two things I wanted to see in Cambridge
were, the statue of Newton and King's College
Chapel; the former is hardly as effective as I
expected, because the chapel, or rather ante-chapel,
where it stands, is so poor ; yet it is noble for all
that. King's College Chapel deserves all that can
be said of it. Yet I feel that the Middle Ages and
all their poetry and impressiveness are in Oxford
and not here. I want you sadly to go about with
me ; everything would be just doubly as interesting.
To the Same.
SUDBURY, Tuesday, 6 P.M. (1853).
I got here a little before two, had a sandwich,
and then went to the school. I don't know why,
but I certainly find inspecting peculiarly oppressive
just now; but I must tackle to, as it would not do
to let this feeling get too strong. All this after-
noon I have been haunted by a vision of living
with you at Berne, on a diplomatic appointment,
and how different that would be from this inces-
TO HIS WIFE. 31
sant grind in schools ; but I could laugh at myself,
too, for the way in which I went on drawing out
our life in my mind. After five I took a short
walk, got back to dinner at a quarter to six, dined,
and started the pupil teachers, and am just writ-
ing this to catch the post. Direct to me, P. 0.,
Ipswich.
To the Same.
SUDBURY, March 8, 1853.
This is positively the first moment I have had.
I am obliged to remain here to-night, having found
an immense school and a great number of pupil
teachers; however, I shall get on to Ipswich to-
morrow morning. I have fallen on my legs here,
being most hospitably entertained by a Quaker who
has a large house here. It is a curious place, and
I am writing in the hall of it, at which all the
pupil teachers are gathered together at their work.
The hall is completely covered over as to its walls
with a vast collection of stuffed birds, which gives
it a ghastly effect enough.
I did not arrive here till just two, as the train
was late ; went to the school, and found there were
three of them. About four o'clock I found myself
so exhausted, having eaten nothing since breakfast,
that I sent out for a bun, and ate it before the
astonished school. Since then I have had a very
good extempore dinner on mutton chops and bread
pudding, all the Quaker household having dined
early, and now I am in for the pupil teachers till
ten o'clock.
32 TO HIS WIFE.
To the Same.
IPSWICH WESTERN SCHOOL,
Wednesday, 5 P.M., March 10, 1853.
I am too utterly tired out to write. It certainly
was nicer when you came with me, though so dread-
fully expensive; but it was the only thing that
could make this life anything but positive purga-
tory. I was well taken care of by my Quaker last
night; his collection of stuffed birds is really
splendid. I could have passed days looking at it;
every British bird you could name he has, and the
eggs of all which is almost as curious. He has
stuffed all the birds himself, being an enthusiastic
amateur; the collection of sea-fowl, and of all
varieties of the hawk and falcon, was beautiful.
I get here at twelve, and in half an hour am going
on to Norwich, and thence to Lowest oft, which I
shall not reach before eleven to-night.
To the Same.
ASPLEY GUISE, Tuesday, March 21, 1853.
I am staying with Mr. How, a venerable Quaker,
and his wife in the prettiest little cottage imagi-
nable, with lawn and conservatory, and all that a
cottage ought to have. He has the land all around,
and his family have had it for generations ; but his
grand-uncle, an old bachelor, who built this to live
quietly in, and who let the family house, being
bothered by the tenant about repairs, etc., sold the
house ; at the same time he retained all the land,
so that what was once their own house overshadows
TO MRS. FORSTER. 33
the Hows in their cottage. However, the house is
now unoccupied, having fallen into great decay;
and as the present Mr. How, who has no family,
will not buy it back, it will probably tumble down.
The same grand-uncle redeemed his sins by collect-
ing a really splendid library you know I am
particular, which the present people have built a
room for, and had catalogued, and the catalogue
will be a great resource to me this evening. I go
to Ampthill by a most circuitous route to-morrow,
and return here quite late to have tea and to sleep,
which will be far pleasanter than sleeping at the
Ampthill inn.
How charming it will be to be stationary for
three days again without a journey !
To Mrs. Forster.
LONDON, April 14, 1853.
MY DEAREST K. There is an article by Fors-
ter 1 on A. Smith 2 a most elaborate one in last
week's Examiner, which is worth reading. It can
do me no good, meanwhile, to be irritated with
that young man, who has certainly an extraordi-
nary faculty, although I think he is a phenomenon
of a very dubious character; but il fait son metier
faisons le ndtre. I am occupied with a thing that
gives me more pleasure than anything I have ever
done yet, which is a good sign ; but whether I shall
1 John Forster, editor of The Examiner.
2 Alexander Smith, author of A Life Drama, and other
Poems.
VOL. I. D
34 TO HIS MOTHER.
not ultimately spoil it by being obliged to strike it
off in fragments, instead of at one heat, I cannot
quite say. I think of publishing it, with the
narrative poems of my first volume, * Tristram and
Iseult of my second, and one or two more, in Feb-
ruary next, with my name and a preface.
Why is Villette disagreeable? Because the
writer's mind contains nothing but hunger, re-
bellion, and rage, and therefore that is all she can,
in fact, put into her book. No fine writing can
hide this thoroughly, and it will be fatal to her in
the long run. My Novel I have just finished. I
have read it with great pleasure, though Bulwer's
nature is by no means a perfect one either, which
makes itself felt in his book; but his gush, his
better humour, his abundant materials, and his
mellowed constructive skill all these are great
things.
My love and thanks to William. God bless you,
my darling. Your ever truly affectionate M. A.
To his Mother.
ILvMrfoN, Monday (May 1853).
MY DEAREST MOTHER All my spare time has
been spent on a poem 2 which I have just finished,
and which I think by far the best thing I have
yet done, and that it will be generally liked,
though one never can be sure of this. I have had
the greatest pleasure in composing it a rare thing
1 The Strayed Reveller, and other Poems, by A. 1849.
2 Soh)-ab and Rustum.
TO HIS MOTHER. 35
with me, and, as I think, a good test of the pleasure
what you write is likely to afford to others; but
then the story is a very noble and excellent one.
F., I am sure, will be delighted with it, and K. I
have settled with Fellowes to publish this, and one
or two more new ones, with the most popular of
the old ones, next winter or spring, with a preface,
and my name. I never felt so sure of myself, or
so really and truly at ease as to criticism, as I have
done lately. There is an article on me in the last
North British which I will send you. Can it be by
Blackie ? J I think Froude's review will come
sooner or later, but at present even about this I
feel indifferent. Miss Blackett 2 told Flu that
Lord John Russell said, "In his opinion Matthew
Arnold was the one rising young poet of the pres-
ent day." This pleased me greatly from Lord
John if it is true. You ask about Alexander
Smith. There are beautiful passages in him, but
I think it doubtful how he will turn. Here is a
long letter, and all about myself; however, you
will like that. Ever your most affectionate
M. A.
To the Same.
LOUTH, Tuesday Night (1853).
MY DEAREST MOTHER This morning I again
left London, and having been busy all the afternoon
at Boston, have come on here to-night, as I have a
1 John Stuart Blackie, Professor of Greek at Edinburgh.
2 Sister of John Blackett, and afterwards Madame d
Quaire.
36 TO JOHN BLACKETT.
large school here to-morrow. I like this place,
it is so entirely an old country town, and it is
in nearly the best part of Lincolnshire. I have
been shaking off the burden of the day by a walk
to-night along the Market Rasen road, over the
skirts of the wolds, between hedges full of elder
blossom and white roses ; and the spire of Louth
Church comes everywhere into the view so beauti-
fully.
I have been reading Margaret Fuller, l and again
been greatly struck with her sincere striving to be
good and helpful. Her address to the poor women
in the Penitentiary is really beautiful. " Cultivate
the spirit of prayer. I do not mean agitation
and excitement, but a deep desire for truth, purity,
and goodness, and you will daily learn how near
He is to every one of us." Nothing can be better
than that. I long to be at Fox How with you.
God bless you, my dearest mother. Ever your
most affectionate son, M. A.
To John F. B. Blackett, M.P.
LINCOLN, November 26, 1853.
MY DEAR BLACKETT You knew, I am sure,
what pleasure your letter would give me. I
certainly was very anxious that you should like
"Sohrab and Rustum." Clough, as usual, re-
mained in suspense whether he liked it or no.
Lingen wrote me four sheets on behalf of sticking
to modern subjects ; but your letter, and one from
1 American philanthropist and mystic.
TO JOHN BLACKETT. 37
Froude (which I must send you, in spite of the
praise), came to reassure me.
I still, however, think it very doubtful whether
the book 1 will succeed; the Leader and the Specta-
tor are certain to disparage it ; the Examiner may
praise it, but will very likely take no notice at all.
The great hope is that the Times may trumpet it
once more. Just imagine the effect of the last
notice in that paper ; it has brought Empedodes to
the railway bookstall at Derby. What you say
about the similes looks very just upon paper. I
can only say that I took a great deal of trouble to
orientalise them (the Bahrein diver 2 was originally
an ordinary fisher), because I thought they looked
strange, and jarred, if Western. But it is very
possible you may be right.
I am worked to death just now, and have a horrid
cold and cough ; but at the end of next \veek I hope
to get to town. We are not going to the sea after
all, but are coming to Eaton Place for, I hope, two
months.
I appreciated your sister's rancour. But mis-
spelling of English words (m'is-spelling of French
words, like yours sometimes, is mere ignorance,
and demands compassion, not blame) is such an
odious affectation that I always check it. But
remember me affectionately to her.
So Parliament is, at all events, dumb till Janu-
ary, thank God. Ever, my dear Blackett, affec-
tionately yours, M. ARNOLD.
1 Poems by Matthew Arnold, a new edition. 1853.
2 See Sohrab and liitstum.
38 TO WYNDHAM SLADE.
To Mrs. Forster.
LONDON, February 27, 1854.
MY DEAREST K. So Mr. Forster x is dead. I
do not know when I have been more affected than
in reading your letter. The lives and deaths of
the "pure in heart" have, perhaps, the privilege
of touching us more deeply than those of others
partly, no doubt, because with them the dispro-
portion of suffering to desert seems so unusually
great. However, with them one feels even I
feel that for their purity's sake, if for that
alone, whatever delusions they may have wandered
in, and whatever impossibilities they may have
dreamed of, they shall undoubtedly, in some sense
or other, see God.
My love to William; he knows how truly, by
this time, he has made relations of us all. Ever
your most affectionate M. A.
To Wyndham Slade.
6 ESPLANADK, DOVER, July 28, 1854.
MY DEAR WYNDH.AM The blue sky and the
calm sea were too tempting when I came down here
last week ; so on Saturday we bolted, and returned
yesterday, having been grilled alive, enjoyed our-
selves immensely, spent 15, eaten one good
dinner, and seen Brussels, Ghent, and Antwerp.
Antwerp I had never seen, so we made that our
object. I have so little money this year that I
really could not have afforded to spend more than
1 Mr. W. E. Fnrster's fatlior.
TO WYNDHAM SLADE. 39
what I have spent on travelling, so I am glad that
I went at once, when my work compelled me to be
back in a few days, and did not wait till my holi-
days began, when I should certainly have gone
farther, spent more money, and been more em-
barrassed than ever on my return.
But we have both recorded a solemn vow, if we
live, to spend at least seven weeks abroad next
year, and to make all our arrangements, from this
time forth, in conformity with this resolution.
Antwerp is well worth seeing, though I hate
poking about in the North. But Rubens's great
pictures are there; and hardly Raphael himself is
better worth seeing than Rubens at his best. If
you have not yet seen the Descent from the Cross
and the Crucifixion, go and see them.
Brussels I had often seen. It is a white, spark-
ling, cheerful, wicked little place, which, however,
one finds rather good for one's spirits.
I must say the ennui of having to return is some-
what lessened by returning to this place, which is
charming. You must come here. We are here
for three weeks from next Monday.
Write to me, you good soul, and believe me,
ever yours, M. ARNOLD.
To the Same.
6 ESPLANADE, DOVER, August 3, 1854.
MY DEAR WYNDHAM An agreeable letter of
mine, relating all my recent doings, has probably
by this time reached you. It was sent to Montys. 1
1 Mr. Slade's home in Somersetshire.
40 TO HIS WIFE.
I shall not write it over again, but content myself
with entreating you to beware of cholera. Both
the Wilts Yeomanry and the Somersetshire Militia
are, 1 should think, very unfit to die.
I am very anxious to hear what it all is about
young Lawley, 1 but probably being, like me, in the
provinces, you are in the same benighted state as
myself.
Tempests blow daily, and the boats come in in a
filthy state from the habits of the passengers. It
is a real pleasure to see the landings, day after day.
In fact, it is so pleasant here that come you must;
only give me a line to say when. All but a bed
we can give you. Ever yours, M. A.
My love to J. D. C., 2 and tell him that the
limited circulation of the Christian Remembrancer
makes the unquestionable viciousness of his article 8
of little importance. I am sure he will be gratified
to think that it is so. This must go, for I am off
to Canterbury.
To his Wife.
CAVALRY BARRACKS, BRIGHTON,
August 16, 1854.
I mean to sleep here to-night, instead of at Has-
tings, as it is very pleasant, and I think Henry 4
likes my being here. I have the rooms of a Sir
Geo. Leith, who is away at present, and am very
1 The Hon. F. C. Lawley, M.P. for Beverley, 1852-1854.
2 Mr., afterwards Lord, Coleridge.
8 A review of Matthew Arnold's poems.
4 His wife's brother-in-law, Captain, afterwards General Ben-
son, 17th Lancers.
TO WYNDHAM SLADE. 41
comfortable. We dined last night at eight, only
Henry, myself, and one other officer, Watson by
name, but it was extremely pleasant. We had a
capital dinner, champagne and claret, and after
dinner Henry and I played picquet, 6d. a game,
the parti ending in my being the winner of one
sixpence. We did not go to bed till one o'clock.
This morning I breakfasted alone in the messroom
very comfortably, and was off to my school before
any of them were up, getting back here about
twelve, when I went to the stables and riding
school with Henry, and was introduced to several
officers. Captain Holden came and lunched with
us, and I found him very pleasant. The Colonel
in command here, Mr. Clayton, and, I think,
Watson again, dine to-night.
To Wyndham JSlade.
DOVER, August 21, 1854.
MY DEAR WYNDHAM I should greatly have
liked seeing you here, but I almost feared you
would hardly think it worth while to come right
across England when you found that our foreign
excursion had been already made. Certainly I was
rather perfidious, but after five months of London
no one could have resisted the first sight of the
French coast staring one in the face, and the boats
perpetually steaming off under one's nose, in the
loveliest weather that ever was in the world. You
would have liked this place too, if you had come;
however, you did not come, and there is an end of
the matter for this year.
42 TO WYNDHAM SLADE.
I have been in Brighton this last week, living in
barracks with my brother-in-law, Henry Benson,
who commands the depdt of the 17th there. I saw
several men of the 13th, and also of the gallant
4th, though not the Brown who I see by to-day's
paper has been distinguishing himself. There
were, however, but few officers there; the old
Colonel (M' Queen) who commands the whole of
them I liked, and dining at mess I liked so far
as the dinners are concerned, very much. The
young officers, the cornets, are certainly the draw-
backs such precious young nincompoops; I don't
mean anything serious to be blamed in them, but
the sort of faults boys coming straight from school
to a messroom would naturally have : they behave so
badly. This is an instance of what I mean. A
precious young simpleton called , inoffensive
enough du reste, when the cloth is removed pulls
off three heavy rings from his fingers and goes on
spinning them on the table before him for about
a quarter of an hour this with the Colonel and
different people dining, and talking going on. I
think every one before he gets a commission should
be compelled to pass at least a year at one of the
Universities and to pass the first examination, what-
ever it is. After all, college does civilise a boy
wonderfully.
We are going to London by sea to-morrow if it is
fine; it is much cheaper, and I want to see the
Downs, the Nore, Pegwell Bay, etc., which I have
never seen. We go straight on to Fox How on
Wednesday or Thursday. Is it quite impossible
TO HIS WIFE. 43
for you to come and look at us there in the next
six weeks ? It is likely to be fine now, I do really
think, even there. M. ARNOLD.
To his Wife.
MADELY WOOD, Wednesday,
October 17, 1854.
This must be a scrap, for I must get off as soon
as I can in order to get to Lilleshall, nine miles of
cross country road, in time to dress for dinner ; and,
while I am here, the managers do not like not to be
able to talk to me. I have had a cold, wet journey,
and only a bun for luncheon. I got to Wellington
at one o'clock, and came on here six miles on
the top of an omnibus a dawdling conveyance,
and a cold, wet drive. I felt rather disconsolate
between Liverpool and Shrewsbury. . . . We have
had such a happy -time at Fox How. Then, too, I
have had time for employment that I like, and now
I am going back to an employment which I cer-
tainly do not like, and which leaves me little time
for anything else. I read about fifty pages of Hy-
patia, which is certainly very vigorous and interest-
ing ; however, that did not comfort me much, and
I betook myself to Hesiod, a Greek friend I had
with me, with excellent effect ; we will talk about
Hypatm when we meet.
To the Same.
OXFORD, October 21, 1854.
I am afraid it is quite impossible for me to get
back to Liverpool. I shall be detained so long by
44 TO HIS WIFE.
a large double school at Baiibury to-morrow that it
will be impossible for me to get to Liverpool till
three or four on Saturday morning, and then to
begin on Monday morning at Charlbiuy, thirteen
miles from here. I am afraid it is out of the ques-
tion. I am just back from Witney ; as cold and
uncomfortable a life I have had since I left you as
one could desire. My bedroom here is fust and
frowsiness itself, and last night I could not get to
sleep. I have seen no one but Lake l for a minute
after my arrival last night. I was off for Witney
at eight this morning. I shall be hurried in writ-
ing at Banbury to-morrow. I dine in Oriel to-
night in Common Room at six.-
To the /Same.
OXFORD, Sunday (October 1854).
I am writing from Walrond's rooms in Balliol.
This time thirteen years ago I was wandering about
this quadrangle a freshman, as I see other freshmen
doing now. The time seems prodigious. I do not
certainly feel thirteen years older than when I came
up to Oxford. ... I am going with Walrond to-day
to explore the Cumner country, and on Thursday I
got up alone into one of the little coombs that papa
was so fond of, and which I had in my mind in the
" Gipsy Scholar," and felt the peculiar sentiment of
this country and neighbourhood as deeply as ever.
But I am much struck with the apathy and poorness
of the people here, as they now strike me, and their
petty pottering habits compared with the students
1 The Rev. W. C. Lake, afterwards Dean of Durham.
TQ HIS WIFE. 45
of Paris, or Germany, or even of London. Anima-
tion and interest and the power of work seem so
sadly wanting in them. And I think this is so ; and
the place, in losing Newman and his followers, has
lost its religious movement, which after all kept it
from stagnating, and has not yet, so far as I see, got
anything better. However, we must hope that the
coming changes, and perhaps the infusion of Dis-
senters' sons of that muscular, hard-working, unblase
middle class for it is this, in spite of its abominable
disagreeableness may brace the flaccid sinews of
Oxford a little.
To the Same.
AMPTHILL, Wednesday (1854.)
I shall have no dinner at all to-day except so far
as the mutton chop I had at one o'clock with one
of the Committee here may count for one. But that
will do me no harm. I mean to walk from here to
Aspley, six miles, the road running really through
beautiful country. I passed Millbrook, the Carrs'
place, on my way here. Their house and grounds
are really charming, but I hadn't time to stop and
go in, which I was really sorry for. The news-
paper makes one melancholy. It appears Louis
Napoleon is certainly going to the Crimea after all ;
and when once he is there the English Army will
have the character of nothing but a contingent, and
France will more and more take the position of head
of the Alliance, disposing of England as suits her
best. And it seems the renewed bombardment has
not, in fact, done anything. How I should like to
live quietly in Switzerland with you and the boys !
46 TO WYNDHAM SLADE.
To Wyndham Slade.
DERBY, November 6, 1854.
MY DEAR WYNDHAM I am writing this from a
British school, where I am holding an examination
of pupil teacher apprentices, surrounded by an in-
numerable company of youths and maidens. I shall
not be in London till the very end of this month,
but then, I hope, for two months.
The news from the East seems a little improved
to-day, at least the Varna despatch seems to estab-
lish that it was Turkish redoubts, and, consequently,
Turkish cannon, that were captured. As for the
light cavalry loss, those gentlemen, I imagine, will
be more missed at reviews than in the field. The
English cavalry never seem to do much good, and, I
imagine, are a great deal too costly and too beauti-
fully dressed and mounted for real service. I heard
the other day from a man to whom Sir William
Napier had said it, that while the British infantry
was the best in the world, the cavalry of several
other nations was better, even in equal numbers;
he instanced the French and the Austrian.
The siege l is awfully interesting ; one thinks they
must take the place, though, after all ; the loss of
prestige will be so great if they do not.
Edward 2 is coming to-night; from him I shall
hear what your brother did at All Souls'. How I
wish you were here for a week !
I have got another volume coming out in Decem-
1 Of Sebastopol.
2 His brother, the Rev. E. P. Arnold, Fellow of All Souls'.
TO HIS MOTHER. 47
ber ; all the short things have appeared before, but
there is one long thing at the beginning I think you
will like.
Fanny Lucy desires to be most kindly remem-
bered, at least she did this morning when I told her
I should write to you. The big baby l pulls his elder
brother over and over. Ever yours, M. A.
To Ms Mother.
LONDON, December 9, 1854.
MY DEAREST MOTHER You will have received
six copies of my new volume. 2 Will you give one
to Mrs. Wordsworth from me, telling her that I
send it to her for the sake of the Memorial Verses, 3
imperfect tribute as they are.
I think this book will hold me in public repute
pretty much at the point where the last left me, not
advance me and not pull me down from it. If so, it
was worth publishing, for I shall probably make
something by the poems in their present shape,
whereas if I had left them as they were, I should
have continued to make nothing. The war, and the
great length of time that has passed since most of
the poems in this collection were written, make me
myself regard it with less interest than I should
have thought possible. I am not very well lately,
have had one or two things to bother me, and more
and more have the feeling that I do not do my
inspecting work really well and satisfactorily ; but
1 His second son Treveuen William, born October 15, 1853.
2 Poems by Matthew Arnold, Second Series. 1855.
3 On Wordsworth.
48 TO HIS MOT 1 1 Kit.
I have also lately had a stronger wish than usual
not to vacillate and be helpless, but to do my duty,
whatever that may be ; and out of that wish one
may always hope to make something. Your most
affectionate son, M. A.
To the Same.
BIRMINGHAM, February 27, 1855.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I ought before this to
have thanked you for sending the letter, which is
ennobling and refreshing, as everything which pro-
ceeds from him always is, besides the pathetic
interest of the circumstances of its writing and
finding. 1 I think he was thirty-five when that
letter was written, and how he had forecast and
revolved, even then, the serious interests and wel-
fare of his children at a time when, to many
men, their children are still little more than play-
things. He might well hope to bring up children,
when he made that bringing-up so distinctly his
thought beforehand ; and we who treat the matter
so carelessly and lazily we can hardly expect
ours to do more than grow up at hazard, not be
brought up at all.- But this is just what makes
him great that he was not only a good man saving
his own soul by righteousness, but that he carried
so many others with him in his hand, and saved
them, if they would let him, along with himself.
Dear Mary 2 was invaluable to us, and we have
missed her terribly these last two evenings. I so
1 A letter of Dr. Arnold, relating to the education and future
of his children; found thirteen years after his death.
2 His second sister.
TO HIS MOTHER. 49
liked hearing her and Flu talk in the evening, as
they sate at work while I read. Now all is silence,
unless when I sometimes read out a sentence or two.
Tell her I find Etty's Life a great improvement on
Montgomery's in fact, decidedly interesting. Of
all dull, stagnant, unedifying entourages, that of
middle-class Dissent, which environed Montgom-
ery, 1 seems to me the stupidest.
I should like to have Mary staying with us one
six months of the year, and Fan the other.
It is no use telling you of little Tom's fascina-
tions by letter when you have Mary with you, upon
whom they have been exercised.
I hope by the end of this week we shall be
settled in London. My dearest mother, how I
should like to have you quietly with us there.
Ever your most affectionate M. A.
To the Same.
EVESHAM, April 25, 1855.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I wrote to you from
the Girls' British School here while the pupil
teachers are at work. I wish you could look out
of the window with me and see our dear old friend,
the Avon, here a large river, and the Cots wolds
bounding the plain, and the plain itself one garden,
for this is one of the richest and most beautiful
parts of England. I was here this time three years
ago coming from Cheltenham and returning there,
1 James Montgomery (1771-1854) , Moravian hymn-writer.
VOL. i. E
50 TO HIS MOTHER.
and I should like very well to be going to Chelten-
ham now, to find Flu and our old lodgings there,
and to stay a fortnight in that very cheerful place,
for it is not now the season, and one is not over-
whelmed with people, and Cheltenham itself and
the country about it is as pleasant as anything in
England. I left Flu at Oxford this morning. We
have had a very pleasant four days at Oriel with
the Hawkinses. 1 We slept in the rooms, which you
must remember very well, looking out into Oriel
Lane, and met a great many Heads of Houses and
dignitaries, the inferiority of them all to the Prov-
ost being quite remarkable. I was not at all pre-
pared for his being so pleasant. I think one's
being removed from Academic life and its usages
makes him treat one altogether in a simpler, more
natural way. I found him not tolerable only, but
actually very agreeable, and enjoyed being with him.
Imagine his having quoted from a poem of mine
in a note to a sermon which he has just published.
He seems to me very worn and thin. There will
be some lines 3 of mine in the next Fraser (without
name) on poor Charlotte Bronte. Harriet Martineau
is alluded to in them, and if she is well enough you
must forward the copy of the magazine which I
will send you to her, after you have read the lines.
I am glad to have the opportunity to speak of her
with respect at this time, and for merits which she
undoubtedly has. Your most affectionate son,
M. A.
1 Dr. Hawkins was Provost of Oriel 1828-1874.
2 " Haworth Churchyard."
TO MRS. FORSTER. 51
To the Same.
LONDON, Wednesday (May 1855).
As to the poem in Fraser, I hope K. sent you a
letter I wrote to her on that subject, in which I
told her that I knew absolutely nothing of Harriet
Martineau's works or debated matters had not
even seen them, that I know of, nor do I ever men-
tion her creed with the slightest applause, but only
her boldness in avowing it. The want of indepen-
dence of mind, the shutting their eyes and professing
to believe what they do not, the running blindly
together in herds, for fear of some obscure danger
and horror if they go alone, is so eminently a vice
of the English, I think, of the last hundred years
has led them, and is leading them into such scrapes
and bewilderment, that I cannot but praise a per-
son whose one effort seems to have been to deal
perfectly honestly and sincerely with herself, al-
though for the speculations into which this effort
has led her I have not the slightest sympathy. I
shall never be found to identify myself with her
and her people, but neither shall I join, nor have I
the least community of feeling with, her attackers.
And I think a perfectly impartial person may say
all in her praise that I have said. 1 M. A.
To Mrs. Forster.
TEDDINGTON, June 18, 1855.
MY DEAREST K. I have not been able to write
to you since the death of William's mother, and
1 In " Haworth Churchyard."
52 TO MRS. FORSTER.
now comes the death of poor Holbertori 1 also to
remind one of one's mortality. How the days slip
away, and how little one does in them ! That is
more and more my thought in hearing of every
fresh death among those whom I have known, and
it becomes sadder and more serious as one advances
in life.
The Judge has not got the North Wales circuit ;
one of the Chiefs took it, so the two dear little boys
remain with us, and we all go to Dover together on
the 16th of next month, I hope. The not losing
them consoles one for losing the 75 which the cir-
cuit would have been worth. 2 I daresay if you are
at home in November you will take them for two
or three weeks, and perhaps me with them for part
of that time. The two boys can hardly be at an
age, I think, when they will be pleasanter company
than they are now. They are perfectly well, and
consequently in the best humour and spirits. This
large house and garden suit them exactly. We
have been here nearly a fortnight, and shall stay a
week longer. I wish you could have seen Tom
stop as he walked in the garden with me yesterday
while the birds were singing with great vigour, put
his little finger to his mouth as a sign to listen, and
say, " Papa, do you hear the mavis singing ? " which
is the first line of a song called " Mary of Argyle,"
which is one of his songs, and which he applied of
his own thought in this pretty way. Every one
1 The doctor at Hampton.
2 He used to act as Marshal to his father-in-law, Mr. Justice
Wightman.
TO HIS WIFE. 53
notices and pets the child, he is so singularly win-
ning and unexpected in all he says and does.
Go to Auvergne by all means. You say in N.
Italy you seemed to perceive where I had got my
poetry, but, if you have fine weather, you will per-
ceive it yet more in Auvergne. The country has
such beautiful forms and such a southern air. The
point is the Baths of the Mont d'Or ; the inns or
boarding-houses there are very good, and from
there you must go up the Mont d'Or ; and do not
miss two things the old bourg of La Tour d' Au-
vergne, and a Nemi-like lake at the Cantal side of
Mont d'Or. Clermont and the Puy de Dome (where
Pascal made the experiments which resulted in per-
fecting the barometer) you are sure to see, for
they are on the great road of Auvergne. The coun-
try on the side of Thiers and Issoire is said to be
very beautiful. It is far less known than the rest
of Auvergne ; I have not seen it. All that country
is the very heart and nucleus of old France. There
are very few English, and at the baths of the Mont
d'Or many French of the best kind. Travelling
and living accommodations are very good. Tell me
again when you have settled to go. Ever your
most affectionate M. A.
To his Wife.
COUNCIL OFFICE, Thursday (1855).
I am having rather hard work at the Boro' Road
hard work compared with common inspecting,
for I have the afternoon till five as well as the morn-
ings ; but I am rather interested in seeing the Train-
54 TO MRS. FORSTER.
ing School for the first time. I am much struck
with the utter unfitness of women for teachers or
lecturers. No doubt, it is no natural incapacity,
but the fault of their bringing-up. They are quick
learners enough, and there is nothing to complain
of in the students on the female side ; but when one
goes from hearing one of the lecturers on the male
side to hear a lecturer on the female side there is a
vast difference. However, the men lecturers at the
Boro' Road are certainly above the average, one
from his great experience, the other from his great
ability. You should have heard the rubbish the
female Principal, a really clever young woman,
talked to her class of girls of seventeen to eighteen
about a lesson in Milton.
I have got the Allgemeine Zeitung (did I tell
you ? ) containing the mention of my poems. It is
very uninteresting, however. And some one has
sent me The Sun, containing a naming account of
the first series. I surely told you this, however ?
There is no news to-day, except that 4000 cannon
have been found in Sebastopol. Things being as
they are, I do not see anything to object to in the
Emperor's message. But the situation is altogether
disagreeable until the English fleet or army per-
form some brilliant exploit. Ever yours,
M. A.
To Mrs. Forster.
LONDON, December 12 r 1855.
MY DARLING K. I think " Balder" l will consoli-
date the peculiar sort of reputation that I got by
1 " Balder dead," in Poems, Second Series.
TO WYNDHAM SLADE. 55
"Sohrab and Kustum," and many will complain
that I am settling myself permanently in that field
of antiquity, as if there was no other. But I have
in part done with this field in completing " Balder,"
and what I do next will be, if I can do it, wholly
different.
I have had a letter from Arthur Stanley, 1 who
remarks on the similes much as you do, so I dare-
say what you both say is true ; he likes " Balder "
as a whole better than " Sohrab," but thinks it too
short; and this is true too, I think, and I must
some day add a first book with an account of the
circumstances of the death of Balder himself.
I felt sure William would be interested from
what I knew of his Scandinavian interests. Mal-
let, 2 however, tell him, and his version of the Edda,
is all the poem is based upon.
It is hard to think of any volume like that of
mine having a sale in England just now, with the
war going on, and the one cry being for newspapers ;
but I daresay the book will dribble away in a year's
time or so. Ever your most truly affectionate
M. A.
To Wyndliam Slade.
38 EATON PLACE, December 29, 1855.
MY DEAR WYNDHAM I am quite provoked about
the godfathership, the more so as if I had really
thought you would have liked to be godfather there
is nobody in the world, now that I have knocked
1 Afterwards Dean of Westminster.
2 Paul Henri Mallet (1730-1807) , investigated the Mythology
of the Celts.
56 TO WYNDHAM SLADE.
off my dear Walrond with Master Trevenen, whom
I myself should more have liked for the office.
But the truth is that the night you dined in Eaton
Place, and we were talking about names, you said,
after Walrond had said that the boy ought to be
called by the sweet name which I myself bear, that
you too thought family names ought to be kept to,
and that if you were me you would not give the
child a name like Wyndham. It occurred to me
afterwards that you had perhaps said this thinking
that it would be rather a bore, and also un peu ridi-
cule, for you to nil the office of godfather ; and as
I remembered that I, when unmarried, had precisely
the same feeling, and, in fact, always declined to fill
the office, I determined to say no more about the
matter to you, and to ask other people. Accord-
ingly, we have now got two ecclesiastics the old
Archbishop of Dublin 1 for one, and Peter Wood 2
for the other. This is a long story, but it is pre-
cisely the story of how the matter happened, and
of what passed in my mind, and I know you will
readily forgive me if I made a mistake as to
what your real feeling was. I could not bear the
notion, that was the fact, of boring you with such
an office, which you might, I thought, have accepted
because you did not know how to refuse.
This cursed long story has spoilt my letter. I am
full of a tragedy of the time of the end of the Ro-
man Republic one of the most colossal times of
the world, I think. ... It won't see the light, how-
1 Dr. Whately.
2 His wife's brother-in-law, the Rev. Peter Wood.
TO MRS. FORSTER. 57
ever, before 1857. l I have only read about a hun-
dred pages of Macaulay. I thought my chariot
wheels went heavier than when I was reading the
first two volumes. Read Prescott's Philip the Sec-
ond. I think it is just the book you would like.
You ought also to read Lewes's Life of Goethe.
The time is short. Ever yours most sincerely,
M. ARNOLD.
To Mrs. Forster.
EDGBASTON, February 17, 1856.
MY DEAREST K. I shall send you to-morrow by
post a volume of Montalembert's about England,
which, if you have not read it already, will interest
both you and William, I think. Read particularly
the chapter on the Liberte de tester, and on English
Public Schools and Universities. What he says
about the Public Schools and Universities comes
curiously from a foreigner, and just now; but I
think there is much truth in it, and that if the aris-
tocratical institutions of England could be saved by
anything, they would be saved by these. But as
George Sand says in the end of her Memoirs (which
you should read) : " L'humanite tend a se niveler :
elle le veut, elle le doit, elle le f era ; " and though
it does not particularly rejoice me to think so, I be-
lieve that this is true, and that the English aristo-
cratic system, splendid fruits as it has undoubtedly
borne, must go. I say it does not rejoice me to think
this, because what a middle class and people we
have in England ! of whom Saint Simon says truly :
1 This-design was not carried out.
58 TO MRS. FORSTER.
" Sur tous les chantiers de 1'Angleterre il ii'existe
pas une seule grande idee."
I write this pamphlet, it is getting like to-
day because I shall have not a minute to write it
to-morrow.
I am elected at the Athenaeum, tell William, and
look forward with rapture to the use of that library
in London. It is really as good as having the books
of one's own one can use them at a club in such
perfect quiet and comfort. Your most affectionate
brother, M. A.
To the Same.
THE ATHENAEUM, March 31, 1856.
... And how are you, my dear, dear soul ? I. read
William's speech l the other day with great interest.
I see Baines 2 has poured himself out in to-day's
Times. Lord John's measure 3 is said to be of Slmt-
tleworth's concoction, and if so, I think it will suc-
ceed, for Shuttleworth knows better than most
people what will go down in the way of education.
Have you seen E-uskin's new volume of Modern
Painters? I ask you because I saw William alluded
to him in his speech. Full of excellent apergus, as
usual, but the man and character too febrile, irrita-
ble, and weak to allow him to possess the ordo con-
catenatioque veri. You see I treat you as if you
were Lady Jane Grey.
When are you coming to London? for coming
1 At the opening of a Working Men's College at Halifax.
2 Edward Baines, afterwards M.P.
8 A Scheme of National Education, anticipating the Act of
1870.
TO MRS. FORSTER. 59
you are. I am glad peace is made, as it was to be ;
it is all a stupid affair together. Write to me soon
at 11 Lower Belgrave Street. Do you see anything
of Bright at Ben Khydding? This Athenaeum is
a place at which I enjoy something resembling
beatitude. Ever your most affectionate M. A.
My love to William. Trevenen can say " Cuckoo,
cherry tree"; that is the latest domestic news.
God bless you.
To the Same.
LONDON, Tuesday Morning (April 1856).
Many thanks, my dearest K., for your extracts.
My poems are making their way, I think, though
slowly, and perhaps never to make way very far.
There must always be some people, however, to
whom the literalness and sincerity of them has a
charm. After all, that American review, which hit
upon this last their sincerity as their most
interesting quality, was not far wrong. It seems
to me strange sometimes to hear of people taking
pleasure in this or that poem which was written
years ago, which then nobody took pleasure in but
you, which I then perhaps wondered that nobody
took pleasure in, but since had made up my mind
that nobody was likely to. The fact is, however,
that the state of mind expressed in many of the
poems is one that is becoming more common, and
you see that even the Obermann stanzas are taken
up with interest by some.
I think I shall be able to do something more in
time, but am sadly bothered and hindered at pres-
60 TO WYNDHAM SLADE.
ent, and that puts one in deprimirter Stimmung,
which is a fatal thing. To make a habitual war
on depression and low spirits, which in one's early
youth one is apt to indulge and be somewhat inter-
ested in, is one of the things one learns as one gets
older. They are noxious alike to body and mind,
and already partake of the nature of death.
Poor John Blackett x is dead. I send you a short
note I had from his sister yesterday to tell me of
it. This is indeed "one's own generation falling
also." I had more rapports with him than with
almost any one that I have known. There was a
radical good intelligence between us which was
based on a natural affinity. I had lived so much
with him that I felt mixed up with his career, and
his being cut short in it seems a sort of intimation
to me.
Let me know, as soon as it is settled, when you
come up here on your way abroad, and pray don't
shoot through like an arrow. My love to William.
Ever most affectionately yours, M. A.
To Wyndham Slade.
BRIGHTON, August 10, 1856.
MY DEAR WYNDHAM I look across the sea to
you, and imagine your agreeable countenance look-
ing out from a window 011 the other side. I don't
wonder you migrated, for after your some years'
experience of Dieppe, you must have sighed for
it again when you found yourselves at Boulogne.
1 Sec p. 14.
TO WYNDHAM SLADE. Gl
That place I consider we exhausted in our two days
last year, and I never wish to pass another whole
day there.
The circuit was better than I expected, because
more of a tour. All the country from Shrewsbury
to Gloucester was new to me, and Ludlow and
Herefordshire are well worth seeing ; and we went
down the Wye by boat from Goodrich Castle to
Chepstow, one of the most beautiful water passages
in the world. I tried fishing once or twice, and in
very renowned waters, but with the heat and the
sunshine and the thunderyness it was of no use. I
find that we must have made an exchange of rods
on our return from the Laverstoke expedition ; at
least, I think it is yours that I have, and I hope you
have got mine. Yours is much the newest, and
would pass for by far the best rod, but mine, though
old and a little strained, is a great favourite of mine,
and the best balanced rod I have ever known, so
pray take care of it. I don't know whether you are
fishing at Dieppe, but I should certainly try the
chalk country inland there. I met an old gentle-
man the other day who assured me it abounded in
trout streams, and the more I see of other trout
streams the more I am convinced of the ineffable
superiority of those in the chalk.
I have been here for a few days. I like the place,
but have been laid up by a thundering bilious
attack, the result of the heat, bad cookery, and port
wine of the circuit. The living on circuit is
very bad, of the worst tavern kind, everything
greasy and ill served. The one comfort is the
62 TO MRS. FOUSTER.
perpetual haunch of venison, which even a bad
cook cannot well spoil. Fanny Lucy and I go on
to Folkestone to-morrow. We go to Dover, to our
old quarters on the Esplanade (No. 6), on Thurs-
day, and shall be there till the 27th. Charmed to
see you if you can come. About the 29th we go
up to Westmorland. I have determined, as my
affairs are doing better, to lie by and get thoroughly
sound this year, and then next year I hope I may
get abroad for a good six weeks or two mouths
without borrowing or forestalling. I am glad you
don't re-propose the Pyrenees, as it would be dread-
fully tempting, and it is better. I should stay at
home. Write to me and tell me of your movements
and doings, and whether we shall see you at Dover.
My compliments to your mother and sister, and
believe me, ever yours, M. A.
To Mrs. Forster.
101 MOUNT STREET, December 6,1856.
MY DEAREST K. I am writing to you from my
old rooms in Mount Street, which are now occupied
by Wyndham Slade, of whom you have heard me
speak. He is a barrister, and out daily following
his avocations from eleven to five. During this
space of time he puts his rooms at my disposal, and
I fly and hide myself here from the everlasting
going in and coming out of Eaton Place, in the
profoundest secrecy, no one but Wyndham Slade
knowing where I am. " Hide thy life," said Epi-
curus, and the exquisite zest there is in doing so
can only be appreciated by those who, desiring to
TO MRS. FORSTER. 63
introduce some method into their lives, have suffered
from the malicious pleasure the world takes in try-
ing to distract them till they are as shatter-brained
and empty -hearted as the world itself.
The air is like balm to-day, and little Tom will
go out, I think, in Eaton Square, for the first time
since we have been in London. We had, indeed,
an alarm about him, and I think it nearly developed
in me the complaint he is said to have ; at least,
that alarm, added to large dinners and a hot bed-
room, have produced in me a fuller beating of the
heart than I like, but I get better as Tom gets better,
and he really seems getting better every day. I
am always, my dearest K., your most affectionate
M. A.
To the Same.
HAMPTON, May 2, 1857.
MY DEAREST K. On no account send me your
Keller. I never borrow maps, and I wish I could
say I never lent them. I have lent my Keller to
somebody or other, and I shall never see it again.
My one consolation is that Williams and Norgate
tell me the map is quite obsolete, and that there
are three new ones on the same scale, all better.
We talk of going abroad for three weeks, but I
sometimes have doubts whether we shall manage it ;
what to do with the three children is too embarrass-
ing. Else I have a positive thirst to see the Alps
again, and two or three things I have in hand which
I cannot finish till I have again breathed and smelt
Swiss air. I shall be baffled, I daresay, as one con-
64 TO MRS. FOKSTER.
tinually is in so much, but I remember Goethe,
" Homer and Polygnotus daily teach me more and
more that our life is a Hell, through which one
must struggle as one best can."
This is gloomy, but your letter, my dearest K.,
made me a little gloomy. . . . How I wish that
while William is necessarily much engaged and
away from home you could come to us for one
little fortnight or three weeks. Is it quite impossi-
ble ? Now that we have ample room in this house
on the beautiful Thames bank, the only riant part
of England, we could and would but too gladly
take in William too, if he could come with you;
but he is a restless creature and would not stay if
he came. It would be such a deep pleasure to Flu
as well as to me if you would come ; such a boon
too if you could come now, for I shall be away from
here for two or three days in the week after next,
and the week after that. We have this house till
the 1st of June certain. Do think of it.
The day I read your letter I said to Budge 1 as I
was dressing for dinner, " Budge, you must go and
see your Aunt Forster." "No," says Budge, "do
let me 'top with papa." So I turn to Tom, and
when I remind him of the Noah's ark, Tom says
he will go and stop with you " for two days." Upon
which Budge begins to howl, and running up to
Tom, who is sitting on the camp bed in my dressing-
room, entreats him not to go away from him. " Why
not, Budge ? " says Tom. " Because I do love you
so, Tiddy Tom," says Budge. "Oh," says Tom,
1 His second son's nickname.
TO MRS. FOKSTER. 65
waving his hand Avith a melancholy air, "this is
false, Budge, this is all false ! " You should have
seen the sweet little melancholy face of the rogue
as he said this.
Diddy 1 gets very pretty, but he is fretful. Do
come and see him, and love always your most affec-
tionate brother, M. A.
Love to William. Tell him to think of me between
twelve and five 011 Tuesday, when the voting for
the Poetry Chair 2 will be going on. It is impossible
to be sure how it will go.
To the Same.
21 WATERLOO CRESCENT, DOVER,
July 25, 1857.
MY DEAREST K. We are expecting the Judge,
Lady Wightman, and Georgina to-day to stay till
Monday. How delightful this place is it is vain to
say to the barbarous inhabitants of the north.
Flu and \I hope to start on Tuesday week, the 4th
of August. \ We go by Paris and Basle to Lucerne,
then by the Titlis (for Obermann's sake) and Grim-
sel to Zermatti, where we meet Wyndham Slade and
some of his family, then in company with them to
Vevay and Geneva, and home by France. What
are you going to do ? Tell me soon and exactly
how long you mean to be out, and how much money
1 His third son, Richard Penrose, born November 14, 1855.
' 2 He was elected Professor of Poetry at Oxford, May 5, 1857,
defeating the Rev. J. E. Bode. His Inaugural Lecture, " On the
Modern Element in Literature," was delivered in the following
term, and eventually published in Macmillan's Magazine, Feb-
ruary 1869.
VOL. I. F
66 TO HIS MOTHER.
to spend. What are the Croppers/ that mi-writing
couple, going to do ? Do tell me this. I am well
in the middle of my Merope, and please myself
pretty well, though between indolence and nervous-
ness I am a bad worker. What I learn in studying
Sophocles for my present purpose is, or seems to
me, wonderful ; so far exceeding all that one would
learn in years' reading of him without such a pur-
pose. And what a man! What works! I must
read Merope to you. I think and hope it will have
what Buddha called the " character of Fixity, that
true sign of the Law." I send you a rough draft of
a testimonial I mean to give to Temple for Rugby. 2
Return it to me telling me how you like it. I have
not yet sent it. He is the one man who may do
something of the same work papa did. God bless
you. Our united affectionate love to you prospec-
tively for your birthday. Love to William.
Your ever affectionate M. A.
To his Mother.
LONDON, Sunday, January 3, 1858.
MY DEAREST MOTHER You wished to see every-
thing about Merope? so I send you these. They
have lost no time in opening cry. The Athenaeum
is a choice specimen of style, and the Spectator
of argumentation. The /Saturday Review is not
otherwise to be complained of than so far as it is
1 His sister Susanna was married to J. W. Cropper of Dingle
Bank, Liverpool.
2 Dr. Temple, Head Master of Rugby, 1858 ; Bishop of Exeter,
1809; of London, 1885.
3 Merope, a Tragedy, 1858.
TO MISS ARNOLD. 67
deadly prosy. I am very anxious to see what
Lewes 1 says about Merope, as I have a very high
opinion of his literary judgment, but the Leader
is silent this week. It is singular what irritation
the dispute between classicism and romanticism
seems always to call forth ; but I remember Vol-
taire's lamentation that the "literse humanse," hu-
mane letters, should be so desperately inhuman,
and am determined in print to be always scrupu-
lously polite. The bane of English reviewing and
newspaper writing is, and has always been, its
grossierete. Ever your affectionate M. A.
To the Same.
January 18, 1858.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I send you to-day two
or three newspapers, none of them exactly favour-
able, but which you will perhaps like to see. In
spite of the aversion of people to the unfamiliar
stranger introduced to them, her appearance evi-
dently makes them think and turn themselves
about it ; and this will do them good, while* their
disinclination will do me no harm, as their curiosity
will make them buy Merope, and I have no inten-
tion of producing, like Euripides, seventy dramas in
this style, but shall now turn to something wholly
different.
To Miss Arnold.
February 3, 1858.
MY DEAREST FAN If you knew what a pleas-
ure it was to me to hear from you, you would write
1 G. H. Lewes, Literary Editor of The Leader.
68 TO MISS ARNOLD.
oftener. I have but little time this evening, for I
have been at work all day on my General Eeport,
and it is now just post time. With respect to your
question : there is a Rhyming Dictionary, and there
is a book called a Guide to English Verse Competi-
tion, published, I believe, by Smith and Elder; but
all this is sad lumber, and the young lady had
much better content herself with imitating the
metres she finds most attract her in the poetry
she reads. Nobody, I imagine, ever began to good
purpose in any other way. But what a prospect
for a girl to cultivate a poetical gift now !
The Leader was very gratifying. A great many
letters I have not sent you, and indeed it rather
goes against the grain with me to send you news-
papers, I am so dead sick of criticism. Had it
been one of my earlier volumes, I should have sent
you a multitude of letters, but with this I soon got
tired, seeing it was not going to take as I wished.
Instead of reading it for what it is worth, every-
body begins to consider whether it does not betray
a design to substitute tragedies & la Grecque for
every other kind of poetical composition in Eng-
land, and falls into an attitude of violent resistance
to such an imaginary design. What I meant them
was to see in it a specimen of the world created
by the Greek imagination. This imagination was
different from our own, and it is hard for us to
appreciate, even to understand it; but it had a
peculiar power, grandeur, and dignity, and these
are worth trying to get an apprehension of. But
the British public prefer, like all obstinate multi-
TO MADAME DU QUAIRE. 69
tudes, to "die in their sins," and I have no inten-
tion to keep preaching in the wilderness.
The book sells well, but it must be remembered
that a good many people read it from curiosity.
Temple writes me word that " he has read it with
astonishment at its goodness."
What a delightful letter from dear old Mary, 1
and how happily she seems to be settled! I liked
so much her words " the red glow over the forest
hills." I know them so well, and that glow too,
and admire them and it so much. Your ever
affectionate M. A.
To Madame du Quaire, nee Blackett.
THE ATHEN^UM, February 9, 1858.
MY DEAR FANNY I hope by this time you
have Merope. I got Drummond Wolff to undertake
the transmission of her. I am anxious to explain
to you that you are not the least bound to like her,
as she is calculated rather to inaugurate my Pro-
fessorship with dignity than to move deeply the
present race of humans. No one is more sensible
of this than I am, only I have* such a real love for
this form and this old Greek world that perhaps
I infuse a little soul into my dealings with them
which saves me from being entirely ennuyeux, pro-
fessorial, and pedantic; still you will not find in
Merope what you wish to find, and I excuse you
beforehand for wishing to find something differ-
ent, and being a little dissatisfied with me; and I
1 His second sister, married to the Rev. J. S. Hiley.
70 TO MADAME DU QUAIRE.
promise you, too, to give you a better satisfaction
some day, if I live.
I often think of poor dear Johnny 1 and the
pleasure that he would have taken in Merope, he
having much the same special fondness for this
sort of thing that I have. Make Browning look
at it, if he is at Florence; one of the very best
antique fragments I know is a fragment of a Hip-
poly tus by him. As to his wife, I regard her as
hopelessly confirmed in her aberration from health,
nature, beauty, and truth.
The poem is a great deal reviewed here, very
civilly, but very expostulatingly.
I dined at Lord Granville's on Sunday, and
found all the Ministerial people saying, "What a
stormy time we shall have ! " The Duke of Argyll
said with a sublime virtue that we were not to
shrink from doing what was right because other
people did and said what was wrong. There is
no doubt that between India and the "French
Colonels' Bill," 2 as their enemies call it, the Gov-
ernment are in a critical situation. It is said that
Lord Derby is both willing and eager to come in.
Bright has appeared with a strong manifesto about
Reform, written with great spirit; but, in the first
place, no one cares as yet about the Reform ques-
tion; in the second place, every one agrees that
Bright could not be active in the House for a week
without breaking down again,
1 Her brother, John F. B. Blackett, M.P. (see p. 14).
2 Lord Palmerston's Conspiracy Bill, occasioned by OrsinPs
attack on the Emperor Napoleon.
TO MRS. FORSTER. 71
When shall we all meet? We have taken a
house in Chester Square. It is a very small one,
but it will be something to unpack one's portman-
teau for the first time since I was married, now
nearly seven years ago. Write still to the Privy
Council Office, and believe me always affectionately
yours, M. A.
To Mrs. Forster.
MARTIGNY, August 6, 1858.
MY DEAREST K. Here is a pouring wet day,
to give me an opportunity of paying my long-
standing debt to you. I have never thanked you
for sending me Kingsley's l remarks on my poems,
which you rightly judged I should like to hear.
They reached me when I was worried with an
accumulation of all sorts of business, and I kept
putting off and putting off writing to thank you for
them ; at last, when I had fairly made up my mind
to write, I heard you were gone to Holland. What
on earth did you go to do there?
Kingsley's remarks were very handsome, espe-
cially coming from a brother in the craft. I should
like to send you a letter which I had from Froude
about Merope, just at the same time that your
record of Kingsley's criticisms reached me. If I
can find it when I return to England I will send
it to you. It was to beg me to discontinue the
Merope line, but entered into very interesting
developments, as the French say, in doing so.
Indeed, if the opinion of the general public about
i Author of The Saint's Tragedy and other poems.
72 TO MRS. FORSTER.
my poems were the same as that of the leading
literary men, I should make more money by them
than I do. But, more than this, I should gain the
stimulus necessary to enable me to produce my
best all that I have in me, whatever that may
be, to produce which is no light matter with an
existence so hampered as mine is. People do not
understand what a temptation there is, if you can-
not bear anything not very good, to transfer your
operations to a region where form is everything.
Perfection of a certain kind may there be attained,
or at least approached, without knocking yourself
to pieces, but to attain or approach perfection in
the region of thought and feeling, and to unite this
with perfection of form, demands not merely an
effort and a labour, but an actual tearing of oneself
to pieces, which one does not readily consent to
(although one is sometimes forced to it) unless one
can devote one's whole life to poetry. Wordsworth
could give his whole life to it, Shelley and Byron
both could, and were besides driven by their demon
to do so. Tennyson, a far inferior natural power
to either of the three, can; but of the moderns
Goethe is the only one, I think, of those who have
had an existence assujettie, who has thrown himself
with a great result into poetry. And even he felt
what I say, for he could, no doubt, have done more,
poetically ', had he been freer; but it is not'so light
a matter, when you have other grave claims on your
powers, to submit voluntarily to the exhaustion of
the best poetical production in a time like this.
Goethe speaks somewhere of the endless matters
TO MRS. FORSTER. 73
on which he had employed himself, and says that
with the labour he had given to them he might
have produced half a dozen more good tragedies ;
but to produce these, he says, I must have been
sehr zerrissen. It is only in the best poetical epochs
(such as the Elizabethan) that you can descend into
yourself and produce the best of your thought and
feeling naturally, and without an overwhelming
and in some degree morbid effort; for then all the
people around you are more or less doing the same
thing. It is natural, it is the bent of the time to
do it; its being the bent of the time, indeed, is
what makes the time a poetical one. But enough
of this.
It is nearly a fortnight since Walrond and I
started, and in ten days I hope to be at home again.
They will have kept you more or less informed
from Fox How, I daresay, of our travelling pro-
ceedings. We have hitherto done just what we
intended: Geneva, Bex and the Diablerets, Zer-
matt, and the Grand St. Bernard. The fates are
against us to-day for the first time, for at this
moment we ought to be on the Col de Balme, and
we are here kept to the house by good heavy West-
morland rain. It will be curious if I again miss
Chamouni, which I have missed so often; but we
are resolutely staying over the day here, not to
miss it if the weather will give us a chance. If
it rains to-morrow, however, we shall go on to
Geneva. I am glad to have been here again, and
Walrond has admirable qualities for a travelling
companion; but I have found two things: one, that
74 TO MRS. FORSTER.
I am not sure but I have begun to feel with papa
about the time lost of mere mountain and lake
hunting (though every one should see the Alps once
to know what they are), and to desire to bestow
my travelling solely on eventful countries and
cities; the other that I miss Flu as a travelling
companion more than I could have believed pos-
sible, and will certainly never travel again for mere
pleasure without her. To go to Rome or Greece
would not be travelling for mere pleasure, I con-
sider; but to Kome I would not easily go without
her. I shall conclude with one anecdote of dear
old Budge. Just before we left Dover, the Judge,
who was staying with us, took us all in a carriage
to St. Kadigund's Abbey, a beautiful ruin near
Dover. We entered the precinct, and there were
the beautiful ruins, and capitals and fragments of
arches lying about the grass, as you see them at
such places. We all said how beautiful, etc., etc. ;
but Budge, surveying the litter with the greatest
contempt, exclaimed at last these words " What
a nasty, beastly place this is ! " You have no notion
what a comic effect the child and his speech pro-
duced.
God bless you, my dear old K. Suppose you
write me a line to reach me at the Hotel Windsor,
Paris, on or before this day week; if not that,
write to me soon at Fox How. My love to
William. Your ever affectionate M. A.
TO HIS WIFE. 75
To his Wife.
VEVEY, August 28, 1858.
I shall go back to where I left off in my last
letter. We were just going to dine at Philippe's.
We walked there. It is too far in the Rue
Montorgueil. When you are there the rooms are
low and small. The dinner very good certainly,
but not perceptibly better than the dinner you get
at the Trois Freres. I should say it was a better
place to give a party in than to come int6 and have
a chance dinner. We then strolled on the Boule-
vard, had ice at one cafe and coffee at another,
then back to our hotel, where young Grenfell left
us, charmed with his day, poor fellow, as he is tied
for some weeks to a French tutor, and never sees-
a compatriote. Next morning we were up not quite
so early as we should be, and only just caught the
train at a quarter to eight. You remember you
and I nearly missed on our first tour the eleven
o'clock train at the same station, that for Lyons,
which is a long way off. We were just in time,
however, getting into the salle d'attente just as the
doors were opened to let the people out. We man-
aged very well, Walrond settling with the drivers
while I got the tickets. I thought of you as we
passed out into the open valley of the Seine, and
shot away towards Fontainebleau. How new that
line and country were to both of us, and how we
looked out of the window for every place to be seen
on both sides of the road! Seen a second time, the
Lyons line is a duU one ; I am glad to have seen it
76 TO HIS WIFE.
once more, however, and now, I think, if ever I
pass by it again, it shall be at night. We had for
companions a shaky old Englishman with a peevish
wife, and a Genevese and his wife, very pleasant
people, with whom we talked a great deal. It
came out at the very end of the clay that she was
a granddaughter of old Mrs. Marcet, 1 and connected
with all the Romilly set. At Tonnerre we had a
very good breakfast, which was lucky, as the train
was a little behind time, and the stoppages at all
the other places came to little or nothing. At
Dijon we just found time to telegraph to the Ecu
at Geneva for beds. The days are bright, but cold,
with occasional showers, and as there had been
much rain the night before, we had no dust. The
train was by no means crowded, and better trav-
elling I have never known. At Macon at 5 P.M.
we unhooked from the Lyons train (in 1851 you
and I passed Macon by steamboat, the line being
then only finished to Chalon) and started on the
new line to Geneva. We got a mouthful to eat at
Macon, but, as I have told you, the stopping time
was taken away. From Macon, leaving the Seine,
you go along the valley of the Veyle through a
dead flat, richly green, and wooded country to
Bourg. Behind us the sun was setting beautifully
over the Charolais mountains, the outliers of the
Cevennes, but in front storm-cloud and rain and
a rainbow were over the Jura. We dropped one
Genevese friend at Bourg, the capital of the depart-
1 Jane Marcet (1769-1858), writer on Political Economy. Her
daughter Sophia was married to Edward Romilly, M.P.
TO HIS WIFE. 77
ment of the Am, and went on alone with our two
English to the passage of the Ain and Amberieux,
where the line enters the Jura. It was now past
seven, at which time it is nearly dark here, and
the rain began. This was provoking, so I went
to sleep. I woke up occasionally to hear the rain
pattering and to see black obscure ridges close to
the carriage window.. These were the denies of
the Jura, but the immediate sides of the denies we
went through did not seem so high. Finally, it
cleared up as we approached Geneva; at eleven
the moon came out, and we saw the tall white
houses, with their lights, scattered about the valley
of the Rhone, and the high line of the Jura in the
distance, beautifully soft and clear. We drove
straight to the Ecu, found they had kept very good
rooms for us, looking right over the Rhone. We
had tea. I sat for a little while by iny open win-
dow, and then went to bed. Next morning we
were up at seven a beautiful morning, and
there was the exquisite lake before us, with the
Rhone issuing out of it, and the sun on the rocky
summits of the Jura all that one thinks of so
often when one cannot see them with one's eyes.
After breakfast we strolled about the town, and by
the lake. I bought a map of Savoy, and we went
to see the model of Mont Blanc; then we took a
caliche about twelve and drove to Ferney. We did
not drive by the great public road to Gex, but kept
along a little winding cross road shaded over with
trees, all among the country houses of the Gene-
vese. We stopped at a campagne, where the driver
78 TO HIS WIFE.
told us the gardener had permission to sell the
fruit, and bought all the peaches and figs we could
carry for a fabulously small price, then drove on up
a little hill to the Petit Saconnex, a small village,
and there, on looking back, was Mont Blanc in all
his glory, with a few clouds playing about the
middle of him, but his head and all his long line
of Aiguilles cutting the blue sky sharp and bright,
without a speck of mist. Then on to Eerney,
where the terrace has the most beautiful view
possible.
On Sunday morning more is left of Voltaire
than I expected, but I cannot describe Ferney here.
We drove slowly back to Geneva, with Mont Blanc
before us all the way went and bathed in the
lake delightful then back to the five o'clock
table cVhdte. After dinner we drove again to the
Petit Saconnex to see the sun set over Mont Blanc.
We were a little too late, but what we saw was
very impressive. Then we drove to the junction
of the Rhone and the Arve, which we reached to
see just by twilight; then back to Geneva to have
our coffee at the Cafe du Nord, and to walk about
the quays till bedtime. Yesterday morning we
left Geneva by the 9 A.M. boat. We would not
leave this lake so soon, so we put in here for Sun-
day. One of the tilings I most long for is to come
here with you. It seems absurd to tell you, now
I have come without you, how I long for you, but
so it is. I have not yet once, for a moment, felt
as I generally feel abroad ; for the first time in my
life I feel willing to go back at any moment, and
TO HIS WIFE. 79
do not mind what happens to shorten the journey.
I must just finish my journey. We got here about
half -past one yesterday; got rooms high up, but
looking over the lake; had luncheon, and started
immediately for Meillerie. As we neared the op-
posite side we undressed, jumped out of the boat,
and swam to the famous rocks. It blew uncom-
fortably as we came back. Walrond rowed all the
way there and back to quicken the boat. We
dined at the eight o'clock table d'hdte pretty
good, but this hotel is too crowded. We are now
going to walk about Clarens, Montreux, etc., then
to dine at the five o'clock table d'hdte, and after
dinner to Bex. To-morrow, I hope", over the
Diablerets. I shall find a letter from you at Zer-
matt, I hope and trust. I thought of you yesterday
on your journey to Pox How. Love to all there.
To the Same.
HOTEL DU MONT CERVIN,
September 1, 1858.
Here I am at last, but without J T OU, alas! I
have got your letter, and am more vexed than I
can say at your having had no letter from me last
Thursday. By this time you will have found that
I wrote it and posted it on Wednesday, as I prom-
ised. Now I shall continue my account of myself.
After writing to you on Sunday, Walrond and I
set off to walk to the Chateau de Blonay, an old
castellated house standing among those exquisite
hills of park and lawn which are interposed be-
tween the high mountains and Vevey, and which
80 TO HIS WIFE.
make Vevey so soft and beautiful. The family
were at dinner, so we could not go in, but we
walked about the terraces and. into the village
church, with beautiful views of the Lake of Geneva,
and got back to Vevey just in time for the five
o'clock table d'lidte. The dinner was very good,
but at six Walrond and I had to leave it to get to
the steamboat, which departed, as at Villeneuve,
just as it got dark. The evening was rather heavy
and overcast, but Clarens and Montreux still looked
beautiful as we passed them. I walked up and
down on the pier at Villeneuve till the train
started for Bex ten miles. The railroad is just
open. We got to the Hotel de P Union at Bex about
half-past nine ; it is* a dirty place, -though Murray
calls it good. We engaged a guide to take us over
the Diablerets next day, had some tea, and went
to bed. Walrond complained of insects, but I saw
none. However, I was on a different storey from
him. I slept badly, the bed being uncomfortably
short for me; but at six o'clock I was up, and at
half -past seven we had started with our guide, the
Dent de Morcles glittering in front of us, and Bex
and its trees in shade. The pass of the Diablerets
is not much travelled. It cuts off a great corner
from Bex to Sion, but it is long the ascent easy
enough, but the descent on the Sion side steep in
parts and very stony. The Diablerets and his
glaciers are very fine, and the long descent towards
the Vallais, along the valley of the Liserne, with
hundreds of feet of precipice above and below for
two or three miles, is very fine too. At a little
TO HIS WIFE. 81
chapel, dedicated to St. Bernard, you make a sud-
den turn, and the Vallais lies all before you, and
in the middle of it Sion, with its hills and castles.
We stopped at one or two little places for bread,
milk, and country wine, but we made the day's
journey in less time than Murray allots to it, even
with good walking. Walrond walks fast too fast
for my taste, for I like to l^ok about me more
and stops very little.
We got to Sion about a quarter past five, and
went to the Lion d'Or, an immense stony old house
in the somewhat gloomy but picturesque old town,
the capital of the Vallais. We ought to have gone
to the Poste which Murray recommended, not to
the Lion d'Or; however, there we went. We went
and had a bath at the hospital, and dined about
seven. At half-past eight arrived the diligence
from Bex, which ought to have brought our bags.
. . . Walrond went to the diligence office, and
there were no bags come. We had walked all day,
and had nothing but the things we wore; however,
there was no help for it. Eleven we went to bed,
having adjoining rooms. I slept for. an hour or
two, when I woke feeling myself attacked; I had
taken the precaution to get some matches from
the waiter, not liking the aspect of the bedrooms.
I found my enemy and despatched him, but kept
the candle lighted. I slept pretty well for the rest
of the night, but the Lion d'Or is a filthy hole; it
makes me feel sick to think of it. The next morn-
ing Walrond was out at seven, and bought a comb,
soap, and toothbrushes, so we made a decent
VOL. I. G
82 TO HIS WIFE.
toilette; and at eight, as we finished breakfast,
the right diligence arrived from Bex with our
things. With this diligence we went on, up the
Vallais, to Viss. There we arrived about two in
the afternoon, and went into the inn, the Select,
for luncheon. I took up the strangers' book, and
there was Edward's name.
To the Same.
HOTEL DU GRAND ST. BERNARD,
September 4, 1858.
I wrote to you from Zermatt. When I had
finished my letter Walrond and I started for the
Eiffel. It is a long climb of more than two hours,
and after our four hours' walk from St. Nicholas
in the morning I felt the climb a good pull. We
rested at the hotel on the Eiffel, which we both
thought an uninviting, dreary place; ate some
bread and drank some Swiss wine there, and talked
to the travellers who were preparing to go up
Monte Eosa next morning, and then climbed up
the ridge of the mountain on whose slopes the
hotel is perched to the Gorner Grat, by which
time we had both of us, I think, had climbing
enough for one day. We got up just as the sun
set, and saw lying magnificently close before us,
separated only by a broad river of glacier, Monte
Eosa, the Lyskarnm, the Jumeaux, the Breithorn,
and the St. Th Module, while to the right of them
the extraordinary peak of the Matterhorn, too steep
for much snow to rest upon, ran up all by itself
into the sky. We came down slowly, for it was
TO HIS WIFE.
83
difficult to leave the mountains while there was
any light upon them. We got back to Zermatt
about a quarter past seven, got tubs of warm water,
as we nearly always manage to do, washed and
dressed, and dined in great comfort, the Lin gens
sitting by us. There were a good many people in
the inn, several of them great Alpine climbers,
such as Hinchcliff, who has written about the high
passes. Davies 1 was there, too, the clergyman with
a beard, who has been up the Finster Aarhorn.
He came and talked to me a long time, reminding
me that he had met you and me at the Cromptons' ;
he made himself very agreeable. We made ac-
quaintance also with Sergeant Deasy, 2 the member
for Cork, who was there, and William Cowper, 8
too, who was there with his wife, came and talked
to me. We had thought of going up the Cima di
Jazzi, but as to do this it would be necessary to
go up the Eiffel again, and to sleep at the very
unpromising inn there, we decided to go straight
over the St. Theodule. The Lingens were going
too, and they started with Sergeant Deasy at five
the next morning. We were rather tired, and had,
besides, all our arrangements to make about guides
and porters, and did not get off till twenty minutes
past seven. It was a fine morning, but the clouds
were low; we had two capital guides. We all
went fast, and got on the snow in about three
hours after leaving Zermatt, I having first passed
round my pot of cold cream, which I must tell you
1 The Rev. J. Llewellyn Davies.
2 Afterwards Lord Justice Deasy.
8 Afterwards Lord Mount-Temple.
84 TO HIS WIFE.
is becoming celebrated in Switzerland for the good
it has done. We all had veils, too, and as the sun
was a good deal clouded, we did not feel the glare
of the snow much. It is a curious and interesting
thing to go once over a great snow pass ; the St.
The"odule is a very easy one, and I cannot tell you
how I wished for you. It is a walk of two or three
hours over not very steeply inclined plains of
snow; you go in Indian file, in a track of steps
made by your predecessors in the snow. Very
occasionally you come to a small crevasse, across
which you generally find a plank laid, where the
guides make a good deal of fuss, and you have to
go carefully ; but there is really not the least dan-
ger. The view down into the crevasses is some-
times very fine, with no bottom to be reached by
the eye, and beautiful green lights playing about
the broken walls of ice. There is a hut on the top
of the pass (11, 185 feet above the sea the great-
est height I have ever been), where two women
live in the summer, and sell wine, bread, kirsch-
wasser, etc., to the passers. We caught the Lin-
gens up at the hut, and, climbing to a little peak
just above, tried to see what we could through
the driving mist. High up in the sky it cleared
occasionally, and we had glimp'ses of the top of
the Matterhorn, the top of Monte Eosa, the top
of the Breithorn, but their trunks were all in mist.
We had some hot wine, and set off down the pass
on the Italian side. The snow stretches much less
way on this side than on that of Switzerland, but
all the way down to'Breuil, a little hamlet at the
TO HIS WIFE.
85
immediate foot of the mountain, there is nothing
Italian in the vegetation or the mountain forms.
Walrond and I got down at a great pace, and
reached the new inn at Breuil at a quarter past
two. The Lingens came about half an hour after,
and found us drinking beer. One of the effects of
Alpine walking is to produce an insatiable thirst.
Mrs. Lingen crossed in a chaise d porteur. Linger
rode up to where the snow began. We were obliged
to stop at Breuil, as the next sleeping-place, Cha-
tillon (you and I passed it together that night from
Aosta to Ivrea), was six hours off. So after set-
tling with the Lingens to dine at seven, Walrond
and I started to look for some lakes marked in my
map as being on a mountain near. We had a long
business looking for them. When we at last found
them they were mere snow-water lakes, dirty, and
not worth looking at, but in scrambling about we
had found a number of perfectly bright little
streams worthy of Westmorland water such as
my eye so often longs in vain for in this country,
and their banks covered with the giant gentian
and the Alpine rhododendron, the latter with a
few red blossoms still here and there upon him.
We got back just before seven, after a hard day.
The dinner was bad, but the evening was pleasant
enough ourselves, the Lingens, Sergeant Deasy,
and a young Irish barrister, a friend of his. Next
morning Walrond and I were off before seven to
descend the Val Tournanche to Chatillon. At the
village of Val Tournanche, two hours down the
valley, is the Sardinian Passport station, and as
86 TO MISS ARNOLD.
the rising made a delay, we struck up to a little
lake of clear water we heard of a little way off
among the hills, and had a charming bathe. When
we got back to the village the Lingens caught us
up, and we went on together to Chatillon. There
we got into the Val d' Aosta, and, as you may
remember, that is Italy indeed. We had some
fruit and wine at Chatillon, and there we parted
with Sergeant Deasy and the Lingens, and we went
on together in a carriage to the Aosta, three hours
off. We got to Aosta just at sunset a fine even-
ing, but not such weather as you and I had. We
passed the dirty Couronne, where you were alarmed
by the great spider, and drove through the town to
a new hotel outside it, on the Courmayeur side,
kept by an old Chamouni guide, the Hotel du Mont
Blanc. There at half-past seven we dined. We
fell in with old Mr. Campbell, who has the church
in Westbourne Terrace, and his daughters. We
had a capital dinner, and the hotel excellent. Here
I must stop for the present and post this. I will
go on from Chamouni, where we are going over the
Col de Balme to-morrow.
My face is now set steadily homewards, Cha-
mouni, Geneva, Dijon, Paris, London, Fox How.
Kiss my darling little boys for me. M. A.
To Miss Arnold.
LONDON, November 4, 1858.
MY DEAREST FAN I have thought a good deal
of Fox How to-day. I have not yet got over the
profound disgust which the first loss of the country
TO MISS ARNOLD. 87
creates in me at my return to London, and with
the prospect of tramping on stone pavements for
nine months to come. I was at Hammersmith
to-day, and even there the fog was less, and the
blue sky visible in breaks, and the trees had still
some leaves upon them, and the enclosures showed
a sort of tendency to become fields, though of a
blackish and miserable kind. I inspected a little
school at Hammersmith, lunched at a hideous
square red-brick barrack, which a great auctioneer
has just built and furnished at an immense expense
in a brickfield, to serve him for a country retreat,
and came back to London through Shepherd's Bush
and Bayswater, in bright sunshine, which duly
dwindled away as I approached the Marble Arch,
and disappeared in impenetrable fog as I reached
Belgravia. There I found little Tom, much better,
preparing to go with Flu in the carriage to Howell
and James; and Budge and Baby I despatched to
Hyde Park with the nurses, to breathe a somewhat
lighter atmosphere than that of Chester Square.
The rogues are both wonderfully well, however,
and Baby looking so splendid that a lady stopped
her carriage in Lowndes Square yesterday, got out
of it, and accosted Charlotte to know who he was.
Our house is delightful inside, and very pleasant
to return to, though at present I cannot quite for-
give it for not being twenty miles out of London.
My books will come about the 14th of this month.
I have a great bookcase put up for them in the
study; I have also hung there what pictures I have
a little gallery you have not yet seen. At Col-
88 TO MISS ARNOLD.
naghi's yesterday I got a print of papa (as Jane
declares I gave her mine, which I doubt), which
Colnagbi is to frame; it will hang by itself in the
dining-room over the mantelpiece.
Do look if you can find at Fox How two volumes
of Michelet's Histoire de France of mine (Svo in
paper), and one volume of Warton's History of
Poetry, also a parcel of about 100 or 150 leaves
of Rousseau's Nouvelle Heloise. They have not
turned up at the unpacking, and I hope and trust
they are at Fox How. Pray relieve my mind about
them soon.
Flu will have told you that I heard Bright to
perfection. 1 The company was dismally obscure,
the dinner abominably bad, the speaking, all but
his, unutterably wearisome; but his speech made
amends. He is an orator of almost the highest
rank voice and manner excellent ; perhaps not
quite flow enough not that he halts or stammers,
but I like to have sometimes more of a rush than
he ever gives you. He is a far better speaker than
Gladstone. ... If you have not read Montalem-
bert's article on India and the "Indian Debate of
this last spring in the House of Commons, you
should try and get it. It is in a French periodical,
Le Correspondant. The periodical has been sup-
pressed in France, and I know not what vengeance
taken on author and editor. I am sorry mamma's
finger is not yet well. One should be a baby to
heal fast. My love to her, and believe me always
your affectionate brother, M. A.
1 At a public dinner at Birmingham, October 29, 1858.
TO MRS. FORSTER. 89
To the Same.
2 CHESTER SQUARE, January 18, 1859.
The night before I got your letter I heard from
Stephen, the Secretary to the Education Commis-
sion, asking me to call upon him, and I saw him
yesterday. He proposed to me to go as the For-
eign Assistant Commissioner of the Commission to
France and the French-speaking countries Bel-
gium, Switzerland, and Piedmont to report on the
systems of elementary education there. There are
to be two Foreign A. Cs., one for France, one for
Germany. I cannot tell you how much I like the
errand, and above all, to have the French district.
To Mrs. Forster.
January 21, 1859.
MY DEAREST K. Tell my dearest mother I
have written so little of late because I am over-
whelmed with grammar papers to be looked over,
and not choosing as I grow older, and my time
shortens, to give up my own work entirely for any
routine business, I have a hard time of it just at
present. When I have finished these papers I have
a General Report and a Training School Eeport to
get out of hand, the inspection of schools going on
alongside of this all the while, so at the begin-
ning of next month, when my office work is again
reduced to inspecting, I shall feel myself quite a
free man.
I thought Bright's speech 1 read as well as any
1 At Glasgow, on Parliamentary Reform ; December 21, 1858.
90 TO MRS. FORSTER.
but his Birmingham speeches. What a good
speaker he is! I am so glad they heard him.
You see the Times, after hanging poised for a day
or two, at last rolls its waves decidedly against
Bright's scheme. You hear everybody saying that
it is unfair to the Counties, but I don't think there
is much in that. The real cause for alarm is in
the prospect of the people the great towns would
return.
I must stop. You can't think how nicely the
two boys go on with Mrs. Querini, their governess.
From my little study I can hear all that passes.
She said to Budge this morning, "Who do you
love best of anybody in the world?" "Nobody at
all," says Budge. "Yes," says Mrs. Querini, "you
love your papa and mamma." " Well, " says Budge.
"But," goes on Mrs. Querini, "you are to love God
more than any one, more even than your papa and
mamma." "No, I shan't," says Budge. Jolly
little heathen. My love to all. I am ever your
most affectionate M. A.
To the Same.
LONDON, February 16, 1859.
I thought of starting next Monday week, but I
shall hardly be ready by that time, besides, I think
of being presented at the levee on 2nd March, in
order to be capable of going to Courts abroad, if
necessary. I like the thoughts of the Mission more
and more. You know that I have no special inter-
est in the subject of public education, but a mission
like this appeals even to the general interest which
TO HIS MOTHER. 91
every educated man cannot help feeling in such a
subject. I shall for five months get free from the
routine work of it, of which I sometimes get very
sick, and be dealing with its history and principles.
Then foreign life is still to me perfectly delightful,
and liberating in the highest degree, although I get
more and more satisfied to live generally in Eng-
land, and convinced that I shall work best in the
long-run by living in the country which is my own.
But when I think of the borders of the Lake of
Geneva in May, and the narcissuses, and the lilies,
I can hardly sit still.
I shall try and give one lecture at Oxford before
I go, on the Troubadours. I know pretty much
what I want to say, but am doubtful whether I can
put it together in time. But I can work harder
than I did of old, though still very far from hard,
as great workers count hardness. I think we shall
be back in England early in August, spend that
month at Dover, and then, I hope and trust, come
north in September.
To his Mother.
PARIS, April 14, 1859.
What can one do, my dearest mother, except
bow one's head and be silent? My poor dear
Willy ! * If he had but known of my being here
and had telegraphed to me from Malta, I might
1 His brother, William Delafield Arnold, Director of Public
Instruction in the Punjab, commemorated in " Stanzas from
Carnac " and " A Southern Night," died at Gibraltar, on his
return from India, April 9, 1859.
92 TO HIS WIFE.
have reached him at Gibraltar in time. And no
one else could. I like to imagine, even now that
it is so entirely vain, the arriving at Gibraltar, the
standing by his bedside, the taking his poor hand
I, whom he would hardly perhaps have expected
to see there I, of whom he thought so far more
than I deserved, and who showed him, poor boy,
so far less tenderness than lie deserved. How
strange it seems that he should have overlived his
first terrible illness when his wife was alive to
nurse him and he had but one child to suffer by
his loss, to die now alone, with only a chance
acquaintance to attend him, and leaving those four
poor little orphans, to whom no tenderness can
ever quite replace a father and a mother. And
then that he should have overlived the misery of
his poor wife's death to struggle through a year's
loneliness, and then to die too. Poor Fanny ! she
at Dhurmsala, and he by the Kock of Gibraltar.
God bless you. What I can be to you, and to all
of them, I will be. Yours ever, M. A.
To his Wife.
PARIS, April 28, 1859.
I quite counted on another line from you to-day
to tell me of your safe arrival in London. The
post has only just come in, everything on the line
of railway being disorganised by the passage of
the troops, but there is nothing for me. Now I
cannot hear to-morrow, for you will think I am
gone away from here, and not know where to write
to me. But I do not go to Brittany till Saturday
TO HIS WIFE. 93
morning, as my letter for the Prefets will not be
ready till the middle of the day to-morrow.
I have seen Guizot, Dumont, a number of the
officials at the Ministere de I 7 Instruction Publique,
and the Pere Etienne, the Superior General of the
Female Religious Orders in France. This last is
a most interesting man, one of the most striking
persons I have seen here, but more of him here-
after. I finished my round by calling on the Due
de Broglie, but he was out. Now I am going to
call on Madame de Stael, and then coming back to
meet Wyndham Slade, that we may dine together.
Guizot told me the great news, which I suppose
you all know to-day in England, but wtyich has been
kept out of the papers here that Austria had ac-
cepted the English mediation and that France had
refused it ; so in a few days- the cannon will begin
to roar. The moment is certainly most interesting
and agitating. There is not much enthusiasm here,
but a great deal of excitement at the perpetual sight
of troops marching past. All this grand military
spectacle so animates and interests the French.
Miles of infantry have just gone past to the Lyons
station, all in heavy marching order, with their
drinking cups round their necks, their round loaves
of brown bread fastened to their knapsacks, and
their tent-poles stuck through a strap on their backs.
How I wish for you all and my darling boys !
I had a pleasant dinner at Lady Elgin's last night.
I sat between Lady Frances Baillie and Miss Far-
quhar. She had an enthusiasm about Fox How and
my father. I walked home with Baillie he and
94 TO HIS WIFE.
his wife charming people. You shall see them
when you come back here. The Nuncio's letters
to the bishops and archbishops have come, and I
am now only waiting for M. Koulards'.
If you can write by to-morrow's post, write to
me at the Poste Kestante, Nantes.
I hope to return on Saturday night week. God
bless you. M. A.
To the Same.
HOTEL MEURICE, PARIS,
Sunday, May 8, 1859.
Now I must tell you something of my history.
If I allowed myself, I should fill the letter with
talk of your joining me. I had a misgiving that
you would not get my Quimper letter in a hurry,
but it was only on Thursday, the day I wrote, that
your letter reached me, and I have a particular
dislike to writing in the dark when I know a letter
is on its road to me. I am glad to be out of Brit-
tany, as the dirt and the badness of the food had
begun to make me feverish and unwell. I am re-
joiced you were not with me there, though I am
glad to have seen the country. Nearly all Thurs-
day I passed with the Quimper Inspector, and on Fri-
day morning at half-past five I started by diligence
for Auray, in the Morbihan. My bill at the Hotel
de 1'Epee for three days and nights was 17 francs
50 centimes. Think of that ! and all my expendi-
ture in Brittany was in the same proportion.
Brittany is a country of low hills, landes covered
with furze and broom, and small orchards and mead-
ows with high banks dividing them, on which banks
TO HIS WIFE. 95
grow pollard oaks. The whole effect is of a densely
enclosed, wooded country, though the extent of
landes is very considerable.
I left the diligence at Auray at half-past four in
the afternoon, after a sitting of eleven hours, and
immediately ordered a conveyance for Carnac, about
ten miles off on the sea-shore. The great Druidical
monument is there, and I stopped at Auray on pur-
pose to see it. It is a very wild country broom
and furze, broom and furze everywhere and a few
patches of pine forest. The sea runs into the land
everywhere, and beautiful church towers rise on all
sides of you, for this is a land of churches. The
stones of Carnac are very singular, but the chapel
of St. Michel, on a hill between the stones and the
village of Carnac, I liked better still; the view
over the stones and the strange Country of Morbi-
han (the little sea), on the spur of Carnac by the
sea, and beyond the bay and peninsula of Qui-
beron, where the emigrants landed, and beyond
that the Atlantic. All this at between six and
seven on a perfectly still, cloudless evening in May,
with the sea like glass, and the solitude all round
entire. I got back to Auray at eight. It was to
Auray that the emigrants after their surrender were
taken and shot in the market place, on which my
inn, the Pavilion d'en Haut, looks out. My din-
ner was soup, Carnac oysters, shrimps, fricandeau
of veal, breast of veal, asparagus, etc. ; cider was
the drink. This looks well, but every thing was so
detestable that my dinner was, in fact, made on
bread and cheese. To get to my room I had to
96 TO HIS WIFE.
tread a labyrinth of dirty passages, and rny room
smelt like a stable. However, I did not try the
room long, for at half-past one I was called, and at
half-past two blundered in the dark through the
passages and the courtyard to the Diligence Office,
and took my place for Rennes. Again I got the
coupe, and again a corner ; but I am very sick of
diligences, the distances seem so long in them.
By this journey to Remies I have pretty well seen
Brittany, all except the northern line of St. Malo,
Dinan, and Brest. We passed through Meyerbeer's
Ploermel, and there I got an interesting companion,
in a chef de bataitton of the 7th Infantry, whose regi-
ment had been in garrison at Brest, and was on its
way to Paris for Italy. His bataitton was at Ploer-
mel, but he got leave to go to Eennes to see his old
mother, who is eighty-five. He was a C.B., and
wore the decoration, and one of the best possible
specimens, I imagine, of a French officer. His regi-
ment was in the Crimea, and nearly every man has
the Victoria medal. The country was covered
with men on " congerenouvelable " coming in to
join the regiment. My acquaintance's bataitton was
one thousand strong, and the entire regiment was
four bataillons. This shows you what a French reg-
iment on its war footing is. He was full of the
war, and we talked of it incessantly. He said the
army would be as much as any one against a war
of conquest such as the first Napoleon's wars, and
if Napoleon III. attempts such a thing, he said,
"onle renversera." But he had a great enthusiasm
for the Italian cause, and this is certainly gaining
TO HIS WIFE. 97
ground in France. The reading he had with him
was a new book on the Art of War, and his spirit and
enthusiasm were really interesting, his appearance
and manner very good, but I tell you I imagine he
was a favourable specimen. When we got to Rennes
at four o'clock he was received in the arms of three
women and a boy aunts, cousins, etc. in the
costume of the country, and of the regular peasant
class, and embraced all his relations before me with-
out the slightest awkwardness.
The enthusiasm of the French people for the
army is remarkable ; almost every peasant we
passed in the diligence took off his hat to this
officer, though you never see them salute a gentle-
man, as such ; but they feel that the army is the
proud point of the nation, and that it is made out
of themselves. At Rennes I shaved, washed, saw
the cathedral and the old Parliament House of
Brittany, dined at an infamous table d'hote at the
Hotel de France, where I met a pleasant Spaniard,
and at seven in the evening was at the station start-
ing for Paris. I was tired and slept well, having
just had a good deal of conversation with a French
naval officer on his way from Reiines to Cherbourg.
The military and naval movement here is immense,
but I am convinced that the nation in France at pres-
ent means fairly. What the Emperor means it is
harder to tell. But his proclamation was excellent.
I am going to write a few lines to my mother.
Let me have one line here 011 Tuesday. I will
write to you also 011 that day. God bless you.
Love to all at Teddington. M. A.
VOL. I. H
98 TO HIS MOTHER.
To his Mother.
PARIS, May 8, 1859.
I thought of Willy the other day at Carnac while
I looked over the perfectly still and bright Atlantic
by Quiberon Bay, and saw the sails passing in
the distance where he would have passed had
he lived to come home. I could not but think
of you in Brittany, with Cranics and Trevenecs all
about me, and the peasantry with their expressive,
rather mournful faces, long noses, and dark eyes,
reminding me perpetually of dear Tom and Uncle
Trevenen, and utterly unlike the French. And I
had the climate of England, gray skies and cool air,
and the gray rock of the north" too, and the clear
rushing water. One is haunted by the name Plan-
tagenet there. The moment one enters Anjou, from
which the family came, the broom 1 begins, and
Brittany seems all in flower with it, with furze
mixed. I had no notion the waste stretches of
landes, where there is nothing but these plants,
heath, and rock, were still so considerable. The
enclosed country is very like England, small bright
green pastures, separated by high banks, as in
Devonshire and Cornwall, full of pollard oaks just
coming into leaf. The country from a height looks
like a mixture of landes and oak forest. But even
the field banks are covered with broom. I went to
Carnac to see the Druidical stones, which are very
solemn and imposing. The sea is close by, with
the sickle-shaped peninsula of Quiberon, where
the emigrants landed and were beaten by Hoche,
1 Planta Genista.
TO HIS MOTHER. 99
sweeping out into it. The Breton peasant has still
a great deal of his old religious feeling. May is
the Mois de Marie, and the sailors, in whom Brit-
tany abounds, pay their thanks particularly in
this month. Every evening there is service in the
cathedrals and sermon at Quimper (where the
cathedral is beautiful). I went in one evening.
The service lasts from half-past seven to nine. It
is in the nave, which is nearly full, the bishop and
clergy in a reserved place in front near the pulpit,
then a mixed audience of gentry, peasantry, sol-
diers, and sailors. There is one great lamp hung in
the middle of the nave ; no other light except that
the image of Marie, which stands on the screen
between the choir and the nave, looking towards
the people, with really a beautiful expression and
attitude, has a branchwork of lights all round it
during the service of this month, and below it
a perfect conservatory of flowers, all white lilies,
white rhododendrons, white azaleas, arums, etc.
The preacher was a Jesuit from Paris, and I soon
had enough of him. But the Bishop of Quimper,
Monseigneur Sergent, to whom I paid a long visit,
is a very remarkable person. He is celebrated for
his tolerance, and the sagacity and knowledge with
which he spoke about the people and their educa-
tion struck me exceedingly. I pick up a good deal
that is very interesting and instructive, and the
French ecclesiastics, I must say, are not the least
interesting objects among those which I see. In
the south I am going to see Lacordaire and Cardinal
Miolau, the Archbishop of Toulouse ; the latter, the
100 TO HIS WIFE.
Papal Nuncio said, was so bigoted a Catholic that
he would not give a Protestant a letter to him, but
the Superior of the Soeurs has given me one. I am
anxious to see him, as Guizot says he is an excellent
man, though austere. Of one thing I am convinced
more and more of the profoundly democratic
spirit which exists among the lower order, even
among the Breton peasants. Not a spirit which
will necessarily be turbulent or overthrow the
present Government, but a spirit which has irrev-
ocably broken with the past, and which makes the
revival of an aristocratic society impossible. The
Orleanists, etc., you see and hear plenty of in Paris,
especially if you are English, but they go only skin
deep into the nation. The Legitimists, not so
much as that ; they are utterly insignificant. The
clergy is very strong, and, on the whole, favourable
to the present regime.
To his Wife.
PARIS, May 10, 1859.
After I wrote to you on Sunday, I wrote a long
letter to my mother. I never thanked you for send-
ing me that most interesting letter of Fan's. Then
I went and had a hot bath, which took the ache of
this diligence out of my bones. This morning I
went early to the Oratoire, to see the head of the
Protestant School Agency, then at eleven o'clock to
breakfast with the Seniors; they had the Polish
General who commanded the Sardinian army in the
Novara campaign, and the talk was all about bat-
tles. The Pole gives the Sardinian army a bad
TO HIS WIFE. 101
name, but to look at him I should say their defeats
must have been more owing to the General than the
men. It appears certain that Francis Joseph keeps
Hess at Vienna because he is jealous of him and has
quarrelled ; and Gieslay is a mere General d'Anti-
chambre. If this is so, and it looks likely, the
Austrians will be well beaten, and well they will
deserve it ; but it is said here that the French do
not at present expect to do more than drive them
back upon Verona. Verona, Mantua, etc., are too
strong to take. Duvergier d'Hausanne, who was a
deputy and minister under Louis Philippe, was also
at Senior's, and another Orleanist ex-deputy, Lan-
juinais.
After breakfast I came back here. Then Mon-
sieur Magin came to bring me letters of introduc-
tion for the south ; and then came Theodore Martin,
who brought down his wife, " Helen Faucit," and
introduced me to her. She is an intellectual-look-
ing person. She gave a reading unexpectedly at a
house where she was dining the other night, of
which the papers say wonders. Now I must pack
up, dine at the table d'hote, and set off for the Or-
leans station. Ever yours, M. A.
To the Same.
BORDEAUX, Saturday Morning,
May 14, 1859.
After I wrote to you the day before yesterday, I
wrote a long letter to Lord Lansdowne, and that
took me till six o'clock the table d'hote time. I
sat by a Frenchman of Martinique, who was very
102 TO HIS WIFE.
pleasant. After dinner I strolled along the Quai
des Chations, which extends down the river a long
way. The nuisance is one cannot go on the river
to see the town and environs from it, as steamers
are almost wholly wanting. There are two a day,
morning and evening, to the mouth of the river,
but the Ferry steamers which one has in such abun-
dance at Liverpool are wholly wanting. The stream
and tide are so powerful that little row boats are no
use. It was a gloomy evening, blowing up with dust
for a storm, which 'broke in rain just as I got into
the reading-room, under the Great Theatre. I have
not been to the theatre it is too hot. Yesterday
morning I was up at seven a day without a cloud.
I was out at eight, wandering about the town, look-
ing at old streets, churches, and market people.
After breakfast I strolled to the post, going to the
Prefecture on the way to read the Emperor's ad-
dress to the army. Very poor and empty, I think ;
not to be compared with his Manifesto, which was
excellent. I got your letter and the Galignani, came
back and read them tinder the porch of the hotel.
By this time came a light open carriage I had or-
dered to take me to Blanquefort, and at the same
time came the inspector, whom the authorities have
given me the head one of the Department, a Mon-
sieur Benoit, a man of sixty or more, an old officer
of the First Empire, who was at Vimeira and in the
capitulation of Cintra, arid afterwards made the cam-
paigns of Germany and the final campaign of France.
He was what we call a jolly old fellow. We had a
beautiful drive through a country of villas, gardens,
TO HIS WIFE. 103
and vines to Blanquefort, a little bourg about seven
miles from here. I saw four schools there, and was
much interested. The best was the girls' school,
kept by the Soeurs of the Immaculate Conception.
Afterwards we made the schoolmaster guide us to
the ruined castle, which is in a green hollow on a
little river at the foot of hills covered with vines
at about a mile from Blanquefort. It is like every
other ruined feudal castle, but the stone beautifully
fresh, and the vegetation luxuriant. I scrambled
to the top of the principal tower, and had a splen-
did view over the country. Not a soul, from M.
Benoit to the paysanne who lives in a hut in the
ruin, knew anything about the Black Prince's con-
nexion with the castle ; and M. Benoit told me there
is no talk or tradition of him whatever in the coun-
try. The lions of England are clean gone from the
gate, if they ever existed there. The Revolution
has cleared out the feudal ages from the minds of
the country people to an extent incredible with us.
We got back here at six. After dinner another
storm, from which I took refuge in the great read-
ing-room, which has the Times. I read Daniella to
an end and went to bed. I write this before break-
fast, then I shall pack up, and start at half-past
eleven for Toulouse. I must tell you one or two
good things here. One is a triple medallion picture
of Marshal Kandon, Prince Napoleon, and Marshal
Vaillant, with the Prince in the middle, and the
names underneath, so as to run Kandon (rendons)
Napoleon Vaillant. Kiss my darlings for me. I
shall wilte again from Toulouse to-morrow.
104 TO MISS ARNOLD.
To Miss Arnold.
AMSTERDAM, June 12, 1859.
We stayed at the Hague nearly all the week,
having only left it yesterday; a small taste of
Holland is sufficient, one place is so exactly like
another. It is like England more than any other
part of the Continent is that is, it is like the
slightly old-fashioned red-brick England of parts of
London, and the towns of the southern counties.
Like the new characterless towns of the Midland
counties and the north, it is not in the least. The
people occupy separate houses, as in England, instead
of living in flats ; this makes the houses smaller and
more varying in size than in the continental towns
in general. The language sounds much more like
English than the German does, and better than the
German less pedantic; but it has none of the
distinction and command which the Latin element
so happily gives to the English language. The
climate is detestable. When the sun shines, the
exhalations from the canals make an atmosphere
which is the closest and the most unwholesome I
ever breathed, and when the sun does not shine, the
weather is raw, gray, and cold. The general im-
pression Holland, curious as it is, makes on me, is
one of mortal ennui. I know no country and people
where that word seems to me to apply with such
force. You have the feeling which oppresses you
so in Suffolk and Norfolk, that it all leads nowhere,
that you are not even on the way to any beautiful
or interesting country. The Hague is a town of
TO MISS ARNOLD. 105
70,000 people, with a number of streets of excellent
houses, bordered with fine trees. I never saw a
city where the well-to-do classes seemed to have
given the whole place so much their own air of
wealth, finished cleanliness, and comfort; but I
never saw one, either, in which my heart would
have so sunk at the thought of living. This place
is far better, for it has great animation and move-
ment ; and it has one of the two interesting things
I have seen in Holland, the Palace or old Hotel de
Ville, an immense Renaissance building, all stone
and marble within and without. Its size and its
stone amidst the pettiness and brick of Holland
produce on one the effect of a mountain, and is
a wonderful refreshment. The other interesting
object in Holland is the face of William the Silent,
the founder of the House of Orange, which meets
one everywhere, in statues or pictures. You re-
member how great a reverence papa had for him,
and he is one of the finest characters in history.
His face is thoughtful and melancholy, quite a
history in it, and is interesting in the highest
degree. Pictures we have seen without end, and
it is a great pleasure to me to find that I get
fonder and fonder of seeing them,* can pass, with-
out having, or wishing to have, the least of a
connoisseur's spirit about them, more and more
hours in looking at them with untired interest.
We are now just going to see a private collection
here, then we are going to Saardam, to see the hut
where Peter the Great lived while working as a
ship's carpenter one of the best incidents in his-
106 TO MISS ARNOLD.
tory, and one of the spots I would on no account
leave Holland without seeing. I am not much taken
with the people, but not speaking their language is
a great disadvantage. I doubt, however, whether
they have not a good deal fallen off from the elan
which made them so great in the fifteenth and sev-
enteenth centuries. It is the Norman element in
England which has kept her from getting stupid
and humdrum too, as the pure Germanic nations
tend to become for want of a little effervescing salt
with their magnesia. To-morrow we shall go to
Haarlem, I to see a training school, Flu to hear the
organ, the next day to Utrecht, the day after,
I hope, to Paris. ... I think not a day passes
without my thinking five or six times of you, dear
Fan, and Fox How. I never so much longed to be
there, and certainly I get fonder of it every year,
and how this day J brings it and all of you present
to me!
To the Same.
PARIS, Sunday, June 19, 1859.
We have a dull suite of rooms here in the inner
court, but charmingly furnished and plenty of them
an ante-room, a dressing-room, a sitting-room, and
a bedroom. I care very little for the look-out at this
time of year ; one is out so much, and when indoors,
occupied. I am delighted to be out of Holland and
back here, where the soil is dry and one can com-
municate with the natives. What wounds one's
feelings in Holland is the perpetual consciousness
1 The anniversary of Dr. Arnold's death.
TO MISS ARNOLD. 107
that the country has no business there at all. You
see it all below the level of the water, soppy, hid-
eous, and artificial ; and because it exists against
nature, nobody can exist there except at a frightful
expense, which is very well for the natives, who
may be thankful to live on any terms, but disagree-
able for foreigners, who do not like to pay twice as
much as elsewhere for being half as comfortable.
How I thought of the abundance and prodigality of
the truly " boon " nature of Guienne and Languedoc,
from which I had just come. In Holland what is
most disagreeable is the climate ; you live in a con-
stant smell of ooze, at least in summer, hot ooze
when in the sun, cold ooze when you go under
the trees. The pleasant moment is when you get
on the open beach, at Schevening, for instance, with
the waves tumbling and the wind whistling; but
even then you cannot help feeling that the sea ought,
if it had its rights, to be over the beach and rolling
across the country for miles inland. Last Wednes-
day morning we left Amsterdam, and I went to
Utrecht. At Utrecht you begin to have a sniff of
dry, wholesome air, and the trees look as if they
stood in real ground, and the grass as if it was not
growing in the water. In the evening we drove out
six miles on the prettiest side to Zeist, a Moravian
village one succession of country houses, gardens,
and small parks, the best We had seen in Holland,
but even there quel ennui ! The next day by rail
to Rotterdam, where we embarked on the Maas.
The sweep of Rotterdam seen from the river, wrapt
in smoke, with its towers and spires, and brick
108 TO MISS ARNOLD.
houses breaking through, with masts of ships every-
where, reminds one very much of London ; in fact,
the great towns of Holland remind one constantly
of one side of England its commercial side ; but
never does one feel more the splendid variety of
England, that it has so much more than its mere
commercial side ; and even its commercial side it
has on a scale so prodigious that this has a grandi-
osity of its own which in Holland is nowhere to be
found. It was a dull, cold, blustering day un-
luckily, we have too many of them in England,
and when we finally landed and looked back across
the broad Maas at the cloudy plains and trees of
Holland, I felt that we had got into the real world
again, though I dislike Belgium, and think the
Belgians, on the whole, the most contemptible peo-
ple in Europe. We went right through Antwerp
to Brussels, which is a desert just now ; slept there,
and on by the express on Friday morning here, ar-
riving about six o'clock. The fashionable world has
left Paris, and there are fewer gay carriages than
in the spring, but Paris, like London, has always
immense life and movement in its streets. I did
not tell you of two things I was very much inter-
ested in seeing in the museum at the Hague : one,
the shirt and undershirt worn by our William III.
the last two days of his life, while he kept his bed
after his fatal fall from his horse ; the other, the
entire dress which William the Silent wore when he
was assassinated, with the pistol and ball which
did the deed.
Now we are going to church. We hope on
TO MISS ARNOLD. 109
Wednesday night to go to Strasbourg. Suppose you
write to me there at the Hotel de la Ville de Paris.
We shall be two days there. I am seeing a great
deal, but you at Fox How are never long out of my
mind. I am glad you saw Blackie. 1 I believe he
is an animated, pleasant man, with a liking for all
sorts of things that are excellent. Au reste, an
esprit as confused and hoity toity as possible, and
as capable of translating Homer as of making the
Apollo Belvedere.
My love to my dearest mamma, and to Edward,
who is a rogue for giving me no news of himself,
from Flu and myself both, and I am always your
affectionate brother, M. A.
To the /Same.
STRASBOURG, June 25, 1859.
... A real summer day without a cloud in the
sky has come at last to make travelling pleasant,
and to light up the charming old town with its
high roofs and great houses, the old ones of white
plaster, and the new ones of the most beautiful pink
stone in the world. The whole country round, the
plain of Alsace, is to me one of the pleasantest any-
where, so genially productive, so well cultivated,
and so cheerful, yet with the Vosges and the Black
Forest and the Alps to hinder its being prosaic.
And one is getting near Switzerland, and I shall
see the Lake of Como, I hope and trust, before the
month of June quite ends. I had promised myself
to see it in May with the spring flowers out in the
i See p. 35.
110 TO MISS ARNOLD.
fields, but that could not be managed. And the
news of another great French victory has just come,
and every house has the tricolor waving out of its
windows, and to-night, this beautiful night that it
is going to be, every window will be lighted up,
and the spire of the Cathedral will be illuminated,
which is a sight. I shall go down towards the
Rhine and Desaix's monument to see the effect
from there. . . . You know the people here are
among the Frenchest of the French, in spite of
their German race and language. It strikes one
as something unnatural to see this German town
and German-speaking people all mad for joy at a
victory gained by the French over other Germans.
The fact speaks much for the French . power of
managing and attaching its conquests, but little for
the German character. The Rhine provinces in
1815, after having belonged to France for only ten
years, objected exceedingly to being given back to
Germany. The truth is that, though French occu-
pation is very detestable, French administration
since the Revolution is, it must be said, equitable
and enlightened, and promotes the comfort of the
population administered. They are getting very
angry here with Prussia, and if Prussia goes to
war there will be a cry in this country to compel
the Emperor to take the limit of the Rhine whether
he wishes it or no. That the French will beat the
Prussians all to pieces, even far more completely
and rapidly than they are beating the Austrians,
there cannot be a moment's doubt ; and they know
it themselves. I had a long and very interesting
TO MRS. FORSTER. Ill
conversation with Lord Cowley, tete-a-tete for about
three-quarters of an hour the other clay. He seemed
to like hearing what I had to say, and told me a
great deal about the French Emperor, and about
the Court of Vienna, and their inconceivable infatu-
ation as to their own military superiority to the
French. He entirely shared my conviction as to
the French always beating any number of Germans
who come into the field against them. They will
never be beaten by any nation but the English, for
to every other nation they are, in efficiency and in-
telligence, decidedly superior. I shall put together
for a pamphlet, or for Fraser, a sort of resume of
the present question as the result of what I have
thought, read, and observed here about it. I am
very well, and only wish I was not so lazy ; but I
hope and believe one is less so from forty to fifty,
if one lives, than at any other time of life. The
loss of youth ought to operate as a spur to one to
live more by the head, when one can live less by
the body. Have you seen Mill's book 011 Liberty ?
It is worth reading attentively, being one of the
few books that inculcate tolerance in an unalarm-
ing and inoffensive way.
To Mrs. Forster.
GENEVA, July 9, 1859.
MY DEAREST K. Your letter reached me at
Chamouni, and I knew I should answer it quicker
by waiting till I got down to this place. It
would be very pleasant to meet William, but I
am afraid he will be arriving on the stage as we
112 TO MKS. FOKSTER.
are going off it. We stay here till Thursday, the
14th, then go to Lausanne till Monday the 18th,
then to Fribourg, and back here, I hope, by the
20th or 21st. On the 23rd we shall be at Lyons,
on the 25th at Chateauroux, or thereabouts, as I
have a visit to pay to George Sand (Michelet has
given me a letter to her) ; on the 27th or 28th in
Paris. It may be regarded as certain that Friday,
Saturday, and Sunday, 29th, 30th, and 31st, we
shall be at Meurice's in Paris ; the rest is not quite
so certain, but highly probable. At Lyons we shall
be at the Grand Hotel de Lyon, the new inn. On
your birthday, if all is well, we certainly return to
England, meeting the children at Dover. I do so
wish dear mamma and Fan would come to us there
for their sea excursion, instead of going to Grange
or Llandudno. We could perfectly take them in,
and Dover in August is certainly the pleasantest
sea-place in the world. Few things I should like
better than going along the path under the cliffs
towards the Foreland with Fan, with all the move-
ment of the world passing through the narrow
channel on our right. Budge will be big enough
this year to go with us. I hear from Miss Nicholls
he has been very good lately at his lessons, being
very anxious to have a letter from me, which was
to be the reward of his continued industry; but
what the dear old boy would like, says Miss Nich-
olls, would be to be all day and every day riding
about the downs on a donkey. I cannot much
afflict myself yet at his and Tom's resolute indiffer-
ence to learning. Diddy monopolises all the studi-
TO MRS. FORSTER. 113
ous wisdom of his family, and really gets on very
fast. I wish you would encourage mamma and
Fan to come to Dover to us ; I am going to write
to her about it. Flu says she will take your chil-
dren for you next year, to let you go abroad with
William, if you will time your absence to corre-
spond with our stay at Dover, as she would pre-
fer to have them at that temple of health the
seashore. One sentence of Miss Nicholls gives us,
who know the child, the best news in the world
about little Tom : " He goes whistling all the day
long/ 7 she says. You know he is too weak to sing,
so he solaces his musical taste by perpetual whis-
tling while he is well, like a little bullfinch, poor
little darling ; but directly he is ill his pipe stops.
How interesting are public affairs ! I really think
I shall finish and bring out my pamphlet. 1 What
pains the English aristocracy seem to be taking to
justify all I have said about their want of ideas. I
hope the Emperor does not mean to stop before the
Austrians are out of Venice as well as Lonibardy.
If he does it will be out of apprehension at the at-
titude of England (Prussia, I have told you, they
do not care for a rush), but it would be a mistake
on his part and on England's. Write to me within
a post or two of getting this at the Hotel Gibbon,
Lausanne. Dearest Flu is all right again, and the
best of travellers. She was nearly at the top of
the Breveiit yesterday, at the chalets of Plau-pru.
Being at Martigny we took two days' holiday to
1 England and the Italian Question, by Matthew Arnold,
1859.
VOL. i. i
114 TO MRS. FORSTER.
Chamouni, the weather was so splendid. But I do
not care to come to Switzerland again, unless it is
to bring Budge and Dicky a few years hence ; mean-
while, I believe I am elected a member of the Al-
pine Club, though entirely undeserving of such an
honour. God bless you, my dear old soul. I am
your always affectionate M. A.
I am getting very much to want to be back in
England : partly the children, but partly also affec-
tion for that foolish old country.
To the Same.
LAUSANNE, Sunday Night,
July 17, 1859.
MY DEAREST K. I forget now what I told you
in my last letter, but I write in great .haste, having
just received yours, to tell you that, finding the
holidays begun in all the Swiss schools and the
schools closed, and having seen the chief authori-
ties and got the necessary papers, I am not going
on to Fribourg and Neufchatel, but am going to-
morrow to Geneva and Lyons. At Lyons we shall
stay Tuesday and Wednesday, and go on Wednes-
day night to Paris. So on Thursday morning, the
21st, we shall be at the Hotel Meurice, at Paris.
If I knew where to write to William I would write
and tell him this, as he will surely stay and meet
us in Paris. I am terribly afraid this will reach
you too late for you to communicate with him
except by that detestable engine the telegraph.
Our inn at Lyons will be the Grand Hotel de Lyon.
TO MRS. FORSTEB.
115
I shall leave Paris again on Friday, tlie 22nd, in
order to see one or two more of the departments of
the Centre. I have arranged to leave Fin there, in
order not to expose her to the bad and dirty inns of
the French provinces in these terrible heats. I
shall rejoin her Sunday or Monday, and about the
end of that week we hope to be at Dover.
I have not been in such spirits for a long time
as those which the news of this peace has thrown
me into. Lonis Napoleon's preponderance was
really beginning to hannt me. He had possessed
himself of an incomparable position. Our English
Government entirely misunderstood the situation,
and were holding language that could only damage
themselves, not affect him. Everything was going
smoothly for him, and he was going to have ob-
tained the unwilling recognition of the Liberal
party through Europe as the necessary man of his
time, when suddenly he stumbles, falls flat on his
face, and loses his chance for this time. I am sorry
for the Italians ; but it is incomparably better for
Europe that they should wait a little longer for their
independence, than that the first power in Europe,
morally and materially, should be the French Em-
pire. Morally, after this blunder it loses its advan-
tage, however strong it may be materially. I said
to Lord Cowley the other day that I was convinced
Louis Napoleon's one great and dangerous error was
that he exaggerated the power of the clergy, and
bid for their support far higher than it was worth.
I little thought how soon he would give a far more
signal proof of this error of his than I ever expected.
116 TO R. MONCKTON MILNES.
There can be no doubt that what made him
nervous, and resolved him suddenly to pull up,
was the growing and threatening discontent of
the French clergy (which is nearly all ultra-
montane) at the Pope's position in these Italian
complications. Accordingly, the French clergy are
enchanted at the peace; but they are the only
people really pleased with it, and their applause
is not exactly that which a prudent man would
wish to have. Their great organ, Louis Veuillot,
thanks God that the war ends by one Emperor
giving and the other receiving Lombardy, and that
the hateful and anarchical doctrine of a people
having itself any voice in its own assignment
receives no countenance. There is a creditable
and agreeable ally for Vuomo del Secolo!
We are off early to-morrow morning, and I must
pack up. I. am getting on, and think I shall make
an interesting pamphlet; but Heaven knows how
the thing will look when all together. If it looks
not as I mean it, I shall not publish it. I am al-
ways your most affectionate M. A.
To R. Monckton Milnes, M.P., afterwards Lord
Hougliton.
I WELLESLEY TERRACE, DOVER,
August 3, 1859.
MY DEAR MR. MILNES I have desired the pub-
lisher to send you a copy of a pamphlet of mine on
the Italian question, which embodies some of the
French experiences I inflicted on you in Paris.
You know, you entirely belong to the " Aristocratic
TO MRS. FORSTER. 117
Anglaise," in the broad (and just) French accept-
ance of the term. But then you differ from them
by having what Sainte Beuve calls an " intelligence
ouverte et traversee," and they in general have
every good quality except that. I am only here for
a few days on business, and return to France next
week. No one knows my address, and I see 110
newspapers. I have so much on my hands just
now. But still I have a natural solicitude to hear
how " the judicious " take my resume of the Italian
question, which I cannot help thinking is true ; and
if you would let me have one line to tell me whether
you have read it, and whether you agree with it,
you would do me a great kindness. Believe me,
dear Mr. Milnes, very truly yours, M. ARNOLD.
To Mrs. Forster.
DOVER, August 13, 1859.
MY DEAREST K. I never thanked you for your
letter, because I meant my note to mamma to thank
you both ; but I was very glad to have it, and to
hear that you read the pamphlet with pleasure.
I could talk to you a great deal about the pam-
phlet (I want to know how William likes that; he
will find a passage at page 39, line 1, softened and
left more open in consequence of some conversation
we had), but I have not time to go beyond this
sheet. You and dough are, I believe, the two
people I in my heart care most to please by what I
write. Clough (for a wonder) is this time satisfied,
even delighted, " with one or two insignificant ex-
118 TO MRS. FORSTER.
ceptions," he says. " I believe all you say is prob-
ably right, and if right, most important for English
people to consider." Harriet Martineau in the
Daily News I have not seen. Edward says it is
disapproving. I have seen no English papers
abroad, but I fancied the Daily Neivs had been
much the same way as the pamphlet, but Harriet
herself is a little incalculable. I want to see the
Morning Post, which has an article, because of its
connexion with Lord Palmerston. There is a very
clever and long answer l to the pamphlet in to-day's
Saturday Review, by Fitzjames Stephen, the man
who ill-treated papa in reviewing "Tom Brown."
He is exceedingly civil this time, and no one can
complain of his tone. Like you, he does not seem
convinced by the nationalities section. As it first
stood it was longer, exhausting the cases more. I
had pointed out that isolated spots like Malta and
Gibraltar could be, and in fact nearly were, denation-
alised and Anglicised. As to the Ionian Islands, I
said what I believe to be true, that if Greece ever
becomes a really great nation it will be impossible
for us to keep them, being the size they are, on the
Greek frontier as they are, and the Greek race being
what it is. All this I left out because I thought this
about Corfu might give offence, and I wished to be
as much swallowed as possible. But the worst of
the English is that on foreign politics they search
so very much more for what they like and wish to
be true than for what is true. In Paris there is cer-
1 "Mr. Matthew Arnold on the Italian Question," Saturday
fteview, August 13, 1859.
TO HIS MOTHER. 119
tainly a larger body of people than in London who
treat foreign politics as a science, as a matter to
know upon before feeling upon.
I must stop, but write to me at the Hotel Meurice
in Paris. I go there to-morrow night. I send you
Gladstone's note, and also one from the Judge, 1 the
latter to show you his firm, sound touch, both physi-
cally and intellectually, at the age of very nearly
seventy-five. Tell William I should be very glad
if he could find out how either Bright or Cobden
liked my pamphlet. I sent it to both of them, but
do not feel at all to know what view they would be
likely to take of it. They are both well worth con-
vincing. Send Gladstone's note on to Fox How,
and with love to William and kisses to the dear
children, believe me, my dearest K., your ever
affectionate M. A.
To his Mother.
PARIS, August 16, 1859.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I saw in the Times the
death of Uncle Penrose. I have often thought of
him since I read your account of your last meeting
with him; it was very affecting. Though not a
successful man at least, not successful in propor-
tion to his powers, and I suppose not successful in
proportion to his wishes, he never seemed an
unhappy man, and for that, whether it was self-
command or real content, I always admired him.
But I believe he was, on the whole, a happy man,
and if he was that, what does his more or less of
success matter now ?
i His father-in-law.
120 TO HIS WIFE.
This is my last appearance abroad as " Monsieur
le Professeur Docteur Arnold, Directeur-General de
toutes les ficoles de la Grande Bretagne," as my
French friends will have it that I am. I go down
to Berri on Sunday to see George Sand. I saw
Prosper Merimee this morning, a well-known author
here, and member of the French Academy. He
is Private Secretary to the Empress, and a great
favourite at Court. He asked me for a copy of my
pamphlet to send to M. Fould, the Minister who is
gone with the Emperor to Tarbes, that he might
read it himself, and give it to the Emperor to read,
if he thought fit. Merimee said, as many of the
intimate Imperialists say, that the one thing which
induced the Emperor to make peace was the sight
of the field of Solferino after the battle. That he
was shocked greatly, and that he is a humane and
kind-hearted man there is no doubt, but that he
made the peace of Villafranca solely because he
was shocked it is absurd to say. If true, it would
show that he is a much weaker. man than either his
friends or his enemies at present suppose.
To his Wife.
PARIS, August 19, 1859.
I sent you the Galignani, as probably you have
not seen the Globe, and you may imagine the sensa-
tion the extract with my name produced among my
acquaintances at this hotel, where every one spells
the Galignani through from beginning to end. I
want you to give Dr. Hutton a copy of the pam-
TO HIS WIFE. 121
phlet, and ask him to present it with my compli-
ments to Mr. Seymour Fitzgerald, who voted for
me at Oxford. He is all the other way, but that is
no reason he should not read what may do him
good. You see how well this man l is going on
first his amnesty, and then his removal of the
newspaper pains and penalties. I am going to-
morrow to pass an hour with the Circourts; he
writes me word that they are delighted with the
pamphlet. The first day they got it, he and his
wife read it aloud together, and then he translated
it, extempore, from beginning to end, for the benefit
of a friend staying with them, "who knows not
your tongue." Lord Cowley is at Chantilly, so I
have no means of knowing how he likes it.
I dine to-night with Sainte Beuve, who is gazetted
to-day Commander of the Legion of Honour. I
have almost made up my mind not to go into Berri.
I think I shall gain more by getting another day's
work with Magin here. I like him more and more,
and shall make, I think, with his help, a very inter-
esting report. You may rely on my leaving Paris,
Wednesday night, unless there is a wonderfully
good tidal train on Thursday, which I don't think.
If I am in Paris on Sunday I shall go to St. Ger-
main, which I have never seen. The English seem
coming at last, as they are to be seen everywhere.
I am nearly the whole day with Magin, and never
dine at the table d'hote. Ever yours.
I had a very pleasant letter from Win. Forster
about my pamphlet, and about his ascent of Mont
Blanc ' i Napoleon III.
122 TO HIS WIFE.
To the Same.
PARIS, August 21, 1859.
I shall not leave Paris till Thursday evening,
because I find the annual Public Seance of the
Academic Francaise is fixed for Thursday, and as
Guizot is to speak, though I really would rather get
home now, I should afterwards be sorry if I had
missed it. The meeting is at two in the afternoon,
and I shall start by the mail train at 7.30. Every-
body said I must stop, but I think it was Sainte
Beuve who finally persuaded me. Villemain speaks
first, and then Guizot speaks and crowns the Lau-
reate for the year, a young lady ; and all the Insti-
tut will be there. M. de Circourt is coming into
Paris to be present.
Now I will go back a little. After writing to you
on Friday, I strolled out a little, came back and
dressed, and drove to Sainte Beuve's, which is an
immense way off, close to the Brittany railway.
He had determined to take me to dine chez le Re-
staurant du Quartier, the only good one, he says, and
we dined in the cabinet where G. Sand, when she is
in Paris, comes and dines every day. Sainte Beuve
gave me an excellent dinner, and was in full vein
of conversation, which, as his conversation is about
the best to be heard in France, was charming.
After dinner he took me back to his own house,
where we had tea ; and he showed me a number of
letters he had had from G. Sand and Alf. de Musset
at the time of their love affair, and then again at
the time of their rupture. You may imagine how
TO HIS WIFE. 123
interesting this was after Elle et Lui. I will tell
you about them when we meet. Sainte Beuve says
I must read Lui et Elle, to finish the history, and
then to complete it all, a few pages in the Memoirs
of Mogador about Musset. As for G-. Sand and him,
Sainte Beuve says, " Tout le mal qu'ils ont dit Fun
de Fautre est vrai." But De Musset's letters were,
I must say, those of a gentleman of the very first
water. Sainte Beuve rather advised me to go and
see George Sand, but I am still disinclined " to take
so long a journey to see such a fat old Muse," as
M. de Circourt says in his funny English. All
Sainte Beuve told me of her present proceedings
made me less care about seeing her; however, if
Berri was nearer, the weather less hot, and French
travelling less of a bore, I should go as it is I
shall not. After all, by staying I shall get another
visit to Cousin, which is some compensation. I
stayed with Sainte Beuve till midnight, and would
not have missed my evening for all the world. I
think he likes me, and likes my caring so much
about his criticisms and appreciating his extraordi-
nary delicacy of tact and judgment in literature.
I walked home, and had a wakeful night. Yester-
day I worked with Magin in the morning, and then
went to see Villemain. He gave me a ticket for
Thursday (they are very hard to have), and I hope
to get two more through the Minister of Public
Instruction, so as to be able to take two of your
party. Villemain brought out Merope, which he
likes, naturally, more than the English do. He was
extremely gracious, and presented me to an old gran-
124 TO HIS WIFE.
dee who came in as un Anglais qui nous juge par-
faitement. He expresses great interest about my
pamphlet, and said he should certainly speak of it
in the periodical press, which is excellent, as he
can do what he likes in the Debats and the Revue
des Deux Mondes. I left him to go to the St. Germain
railway, and partly by rail, partly by omnibus, and
partly by walking, got to Les Bruyeres soon after
four. Mine, de Circourt looked dreadfully ill, and
I thought would have fainted with the effort of
coming into the drawing-room and crawling to the
sofa ; however, her salts revived her, and without
the least allusion to her health, she began to talk
about my pamphlet. I think they both heartily
like it, and they say that T have apprecie-d les clioses
avec une justesse extraordinaire. They have already
sent off their own copy to M. de Cavour, so you
were wrong. They want others to distribute. For
once M. de Circourt talked French, and we three
and a very pleasant Comte de Beauwysse, who was
staying with them, a Frenchman of the old school,
who knows nothing but French and a little Latin,
had a very pleasant hour. I* had refused to dine
when he wrote to me here to ask me, thinking I
should put them out, but was sorry afterwards, as
I found they had a party, and amongst the party
Mile. Von Arnim, the daughter of Bettina, Goethe's
friend, who is said to be as charming as her mother.
I got a glimpse of her on a balcony as I came away,
and thought her very handsome and striking-look-
ing. She was to sit down to dinner with four gen-
tlemen she had refused, two French and two German.
TO MISS ARNOLD. 125
Les Bruyeres is a very pretty place of several acres,
on a beautiful range of heathy forest hill command-
ing the valley of the Seine, with views of Marly,
St. Germain, etc. God bless you. Tell the boys
how I love them, and love to hear of them being
such good, dear boys while I am away. Ever yours.
To Miss Arnold.
LONDON, August 29, 1859.
I am rheumatic and full of pains, coming back
after five months of dry air into this variable one,
but I have not more to complain of than a day on
the hills will set right. I have often thought, since
I published this on the Italian question, about dear
papa's pamphlets. Whatever talent I have in this
direction I certainly inherit from him, for his pam-
phleteering talent was one of his very strongest
and most pronounced literary sides, if he had been
in the way of developing it. It is the one literary
side on which I feel myself in close contact with
him, and that is a great pleasure. Even the pos-
itive style of statement I inherit.
To the Same.
THE ATHENAEUM, November 21, 1859.
My drill 1 spoiled my project of writing on Sat-
urday. On Saturday it is from four to six, just
the letter-writing time, as the post goes out from
this club at six. To-night the drill is from seven
to nine a better time in some respects, but it
1 He served in the Queen's Westminster Kifle Volunteers.
126 TO MISS ARNOLD.
deprives one of one's dinner. For this, however,
I am not wholly sorry, as, in the first place, one
eats and drinks so perpetually in London, that I
am rather glad on two evenings in the week to be
relieved from a regular dinner ; in the second place,
it gives me an opportunity of having supper at
home on these two evenings, and keeping one's own
cook's hand in. I like the drilling very much ; it
braces one's muscles, and does one a world of good.
You saw General Hay's speech to us the other day.
The other corps which was joined with us, the
London Scottish, is larger and more advanced than
we are, but we shall do very well, as we have a
splendid neighbourhood to choose from. Far from
being a measure dangerous by its arming the people
a danger to which some persons are very sensi-
tive it seems to me that the establishment of
these Rifle Corps will more than ever throw the
power into the hands of the upper and middle
classes, as it is of these that they are mainly com-
posed, and these classes will thus have over the
lower classes the superiority, not only of wealth
and intelligence, which they have now, but of
physical force. I hope and think that the higher
classes in this country have now so developed their
consciences that this will do them no harm ; still,
it is a consequence of the present arming movement
which deserves attention, and which is, no doubt,
obscurely present to the minds of the writers o.the
cheap Radical newspapers who abuse the movement.
The bad feature in the proceeding is the hideous
English toadyism with which lords and great people
TO MISS ARNOLD. 127
are invested with the commands in the corps they
join, quite without respect of any considerations of
their efficiency. This proceeds from our national
bane the immense vulgar-mindedness, and, so far,
real inferiority of the English middle classes.
To the Same.
LONDON, December 19, 1859.
Last week slipped away without my writing, for
my hours at the Training School, on which I
counted, were so broken by people coming in to
speak to me or ask me questions that I had time
for nothing. Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and
Friday I had to be at the Westminster Training
School at ten o'clock; be there till half-past one,
and begin again at three, going on till half-past
six : this, with eighty candidates to look after, and
gas burning most of the day, either to give light or
to help warm the room. In the middle of the day
I had to dine with Scott, the Principal of the Train-
ing School, so I went out in the morning before I
had seen little Lucy, and did not get home at night
till she had gone to bed. On Saturday I finished
at the Training School at half-past two, but then
I had my drill, which I find in my absence at York
I have much forgotten. To-morrow I begin again
at the Training School, and continue till Friday,
when I hope to be finally free, and to be able to
work at my French Report till the end of January,
when I hope to send it in. I shall avoid going back
to Paris if possible, though it is rather tempting in
some ways when one hears of winter society having
128 TO MRS. FORSTER.
begun there, and everybody being alive and gay.
My great inducement in going back would be to
see and talk to Cousin, who has himself had a
Report to make much like that on which I am
engaged. I should also, now that I know and have
read so much about popular education in France,
much like to see Guizot again, and to ask him some
questions. However, I don't much think I shall
go. The most important and difficult part of my
Report is pretty well formed in my head now, and
going back to Paris might give me a new start in
some direction or other which would unsettle me,
and give me all to do again.
To Mrs. Forster.
December 24, 1859.
MY DEAREST K. I must write a line home on
my birthday, and I have long wanted to write to
you, who luckily find yourself at Fox How at this
moment ; so at the same time that I fulfil a long-
entertained wish, I can send my love to all at Fox
How, and thanks to my dearest mother, Fan, Wal-
ter, 1 and Rowland 2 for their affectionate good wishes.
Thank you, too,.for your dear letter, my darling K.
If I do not often communicate with you, it is not
that I do not often think of you. There is no one
about whom I so often think in connexion with my
lectures, which have now entirely taken shape in
my head, and which I hope to publish at the end
of 1860, giving five between this and then. I
thought the other day that I would tell you of a
1 His youngest brother, Walter Arnold, R.N. 2 His old nurse.
TO MRS. FORSTER. 129
Frenchman whom I saw in Paris, Ernest Kenan,
between whose line of endeavour and my own I im-
agine there is considerable resemblance, that you
might have a look at some of his books if you
liked. The difference is, perhaps, that he tends to
inculate morality, in a high sense of the word, upon
the French nation as what they most want, while I
tend to inculate intelligence, also in a high sense of
the word, upon the English nation as what they
most want ; but with respect both to morality and
intelligence, I think we are singularly at one in our
ideas, and also with respect both to the progress
and the established religion of the present day.
The best book of his for you to read, in all ways, is
his Essais de Morale et de Critique, lately published.
I have read few things for a long time with more
pleasure than a long essay with which the book
concludes "Sur la poesie des races celtiques."
I have long felt that we owed far more, spiritually
and artistically, to the Celtic races than the some-
what coarse Germanic intelligence readily per-
ceived, and been increasingly satisfied at our own
semi-Celtic origin, which, as I fancy, gives us the
power, if we will use it, of comprehending the
nature of both races. Kenan pushes the glorifica-
tion of the Celts too far ; but there is a great deal
of truth in what he says, and being on the same
ground in my next lecture, in which I have to ex-
amine the origin of what is called the " romantic "
sentiment about women, which the Germans quite
falsely are fond of giving themselves the credit of
originating, I read him with the more interest.
VOL. I. K
130 TO HIS MOTHER.
How I envy you Rydal Lake ! But the Serpen-
tine is better than might be supposed, and very
beautiful. The frost has been so hard that in spite
of this thaw (thermometer at 45) the ice still
bears, and Dicky and I on our pilgrimage to the
City this morning were on it in St. James's Park.
Your ever affectionate M. A.
To his Mother.
2 CHESTER SQUARE, December 31, 1859.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I have not much time,
but must not fail to wish you many, many happy
New Years. I keep planning and planning to pass
Christmas and the New Year again at Fox How,
where I have passed them so often and so happily,
now, alas ! so long ago, but I do not see when it will
be practicable. To make up, I think of you all
more and oftener at this time of year than at any
other. Poor little Tom has been having, and has,
one of his attacks, cough and fever, and yesterday
was very ill indeed ; but he struggles on in the won-
derful way that you know, and in every hour that
he gets a little ease seems to recover his strength,
which two or three hours of continuous cough try
terribly. I hear his little voice now in the next
room talking to his mamma about " Brown, Jones,
and Robinson." It is one of his good hours,
but this afternoon he has been very unwell. The
others are very well indeed, and Lucy l making a
great start in liveliness. Budge and Dick went
with us in the carriage this afternoon to make a
1 His elder daughter, Lucy Charlotte.
TO MISS ARNOLD. 131
call in the Eegent's Park, and as the people were
out, we took them on to the Zoological Gardens for
an hour. It was Dick's first visit, and he shouted
and danced for pleasure at the animals, above all
at the lion, who was in high excitement, and growl-
ing magnificently. I am very fond of the Gardens
myself, and there are many new things this year.
I must stop and go on looking over papers. Did
you see a long article in the Times on dough's
Plutarch ? It pleased me so much. Clough has
just had the scarlatina, and is at Hastings to get
well. Were you not agitated to hear of Macaulay's
death ? 1 It has made a great sensation. But the
Times leading article on him is a splendid exhibi-
tion of what may be called the intellectual vulgarity
of that newspaper. I had no notion Macaulay was
so young a man. It is said he has left no more
history ready, which is a national loss.
To Miss Arnold.
January 20, 1860.
My last week's note was a shabby one, but I am
very busy now with my Report ; that is because I
was not busy with it when I ought to have been,
you will say ; but I was really not ready to write
when I was at Fox How, and should even be glad
to let the thing lie in my head a month or two
more before I write it. I have not even yet com-
posed more than a sentence or two here and there
of the Report as it will actually appear, though I
have covered a good many sheets with notes and
i December 28, 1859.
132 TO MISS ARNOLD.
extracts. I have passed the last week at the British
Museum, and to-day I receive from France a num-
ber of documents which I ought to have received
months ago, and which would have saved me a
world of trouble by coming sooner. Flu goes with
me to the Museum to-morrow to make extracts for
me, and on Monday I hope to begin writing fast and
fluent. I have had to look a good deal into the his-
tory of the present French organisation in Church
and State, which dates from the first Consulate of the
great Napoleon, and have come out of my researches
with, if possible, a higher opinion of that astonish-
ing man than ever. The way in which he held the
balance between old and new France in reorganis-
ing things I had till now had no idea of, nor of the
difficulties which beset him, both from the Revolu-
tion party and the party of the ancient regime. I
am glad to have been led to use the Museum, which
I had actually not seen since the great improve-
ments in 1857. You must on no account leave
London without seeing it. Not a day passes but I
think with pleasure of the 31st. I had written
what precedes with difficulty, being besieged by
Dicky's questions about a number of things, he
being in his black velvet and red and white tartan,
and looking such a duck that it was hard to take
one's eyes off him. I write now from the British
Museum. I have not brought Flu as I meant,
because it is a pouring wet day. Was ever any-
thing like this incessant rain and mild weather!
It loosens all my joints and makes my back ache.
I am going the Home Circuit with the Judge. I
TO MISS ARNOLD. 133
shall be anxious to see William's article; he is
lucky in his subject, for there is considerable inter-
est just now in England about John Brown, 1 and
very little information. " What did it all mean ? "
is a question a great many people will like to have
clearly and well answered for them. I see Bright
goes on envying the Americans, but I cannot but
think that the state of things with respect to their
national character, which, after all, is the base
of the only real grandeur or prosperity, becomes
graver and graver. It seems as if few stocks could
be trusted to grow up properly without having a
priesthood and an aristocracy to act as their school-
masters at some time or other of their national
existence.
To the Same.
VIEL SALM,
Sunday, September 9, 1860.
We left Dover on Monday morning, had a beau-
tiful passage, none of the children ill, reached
Calais before eleven, gave the boys their dinner
and Lucy her sleep, and at two started for Ghent,
which we reached at 7.30 in the evening. We got
very good rooms at the Hotel de la Porte, and at
8.30 the children were to be seen as gay as larks
sitting round the table with Mrs. Tuffin 2 and Char-
lotte, discussing their tea and mutton cutlets, little
Lucy among the rest. Flu and I dined in the
coffee-room by ourselves. Next morning we were
off at half-past eight. We were at Spa between
1 John Brown of Harper's Ferry, the abolitionist hero, exe-
cuted December 2, 1859. 2 The nurse.
134 TO MISS ARNOLD.
one and two, and got rooms for the one night at
the Hotel de Flandre. Spa I had never seen
before. It stands prettily in a basin surrounded
by wooded hills of about the Matlock size, but it
hardly deserves it reputation, I think, and as a
town it astonished us both by its insignificance.
Flu and I dined at the table d'hote at four o'clock,
and after that walked about a little with the boys ;
then I went and looked on for a little at the gam-
bling, came back and made an agreement with a
carriage-master to bring us here next day, and got
early to bed. Next morning we awoke upon a
world of mist, but as we got up it gradually cleared,
and when we started a little before ten the sun was
shining brilliantly. Our carriage was a sort of
omnibus, which held us and our luggage excel-
lently. Lucy is rather a terrible inmate inside,
but she went to sleep at eleven, and slept in her
mamma's lap till after one, which was a wonderful
piece of good fortune. The three boys are capital
travellers. It is only about 25 miles from Spa to
this place, but such are the hills that we took five
or six hours to accomplish the journey, and did not
arrive here till nearly four o'clock. It had clouded
over when we arrived. The hotel, of which a pre-
possessing picture had been sent us, looked but a
poor affair when actually seen. The beds were
damp, and the first evening was spent in some
depression and apprehension. But the journey had
been so expensive that the chance of remaining
still for a little while was not to be lightly aban-
doned, and one knows beforehand that one will
TO MISS ARNOLD. 135
shake down into almost any place. Now that the
sheets are aired and the rooms arranged, we begin
to feel quite settled. The landlord is a man who
seems honesty itself. It is a thoroughly country
place, splendidly healthy, and we live very cheap.
Flu and I pay for board and lodging 4 francs a day
each, the two nurses pay 3 francs a day each, the
children 1 franc a day each. For this we have a
large salon, three double-bedded rooms and a single-
bedded room, and three meals a day breakfast, a
luncheon at half-past twelve, and a dinner at half-
past five. We dine at this early hour because it
enables us to have the three boys to dine with us,
and you may imagine how they like that. It is,
properly speaking, an inn for sportsmen, as this is
a great game country. It is a district of great
abundance and few travellers; this accounts for
everything being so cheap. The character of the
inn accounts for the cookery being so good as it is.
We had to-day for dinner, soup, trout, roast mut-
ton and potatoes, stewed beef and carrots, roast
chicken and peas, plum pudding, Gruyere cheese,
and peaches, cherries, walnuts, and sweet biscuits.
The pension includes fire in the salon (for this
whole country is high and cold) and lights in the
salon, for fires in the bedrooms and bougies in the
bedrooms we pay extra. But the only real extra is
wine ; however, everything included, I reckon that
board and lodging will cost us less per week here
together than board alone costs us in London.
About the country I will tell you in a second letter.
It is very pleasant ; the weather, however, is still
136 TO MISS ARNOLD.
unsettled. I hoped for shooting, and brought my
gun, but owing to the backward state of the crops,
the authorities have put off the opening of the
shooting season till the 20th of this month, so
I shall probably miss the shooting altogether.
Meanwhile, the rivers are the most beautiful in the
world, and I have had spendid fishing both yester-
day and to-day. The natives fish with nets, but
nobody fishes with rod and line, and with nets in
these rough rivers there are many places you can-
not fish. Besides, the natives are so indolent that
they never go far from home, so the rivers abound,
in trout, if you go a little distance from the vil-
lages. The astonishment of the people at the fish-
ing I make with the fly is comic. I can get almost
any number I want, and two or three of them are
sure to be of a pound weight. It is the best free
inland trout-fishing (neither preserved nor, from
neighbourhood to the sea, enriched by sea trout)
which I have ever known. The children are per-
fectly well and happy, and the freedom of this
place is delightful to them. Flu treats me as her
great schoolboy, to whom she is giving his holiday.
The place cannot have many resources for her, but
she takes kindly to it, out of tenderness to me. We
shall stay here, I think, another week, so write to
me here again.
To the Same.
VIEL SALM,
Thursday, September 13, 1860.
MY DEAREST FAN I have not heard from any
of you, but I feel disposed to write to you, perhaps
TO MISS ARNOLD. 137
because I think this place would suit you so well.
We are here " in Arden," but it is astonishing how
like it is in all things to England, except in the
speaking French; and the singular tranquillity and
beauty of the country, the bonhomie of the people,
and the entire independence of the mode of life
you would greatly enjoy. I hardly know how to
give you an idea of the country: the hills are like
either the long hill over Kendal which you see
from Helm Lodge (Kendal Moor, do they call it ?)
or the hills at the foot of Windermere, that is, they
are like these for form, height, and wood, but there
the likeness ends, for in England there is nothing
exactly like this country. In the first place, we are
in latitude 50 15'; and though the whole country
is high, yet the corn, which in Westmorland strug-
gles painfully for life in the valleys, here flourishes
high up among all the hills. In the next place,
there is here the vastness which in England is
wanting. As far as the eye can reach, when you
get high up, there is range beyond range of rounded
slopes, either clothed in forest or purple with
heather, here and there a smoke among the woods
where they are clearing, that is, they have cut
down the trees over a space of ground and are
burning the turf to get the soil for receiving corn.
The brooks and rivers are everywhere, and are just
like ours, as bright and rapid, only the rivers are
fuller and deeper. We are only a few miles from
Germany, and from any hill can look into it. From
here to the Rhine it is a country much like this,
only wilder and lovelier, much of it (the Eifel) vol-
138 TO MISS ARNOLD.
canic; the inhabitants a dirty, savage, backward
race, bigoted Eoman Catholics. It would shock a
Teutomaniac to see the contempt with which this
Walloon or mixed Roman population regards them :
Ce sont des butors (clowns), they say, and speak of
their dirt and barbarism with unfeigned horror.
The people here are generally well off. There is
no real poverty, and every one possesses some land.
This is all since the abolition of feudalism at the
first French revolution. Before this all the district
was a feudal principality under the Counts of Salm,
Germans, whose castle is still to be seen in ruins at
the hamlet of Salm Chateau, about one and a half
miles from this place. The Counts of Salm have
disappeared, and a Mr. Davidson, a Scotchman, has
bought the ruins of this chateau, with but little
land round it, however, great properties being al-
most unknown just hereabouts. All up the beau-
tiful hill above this place there is first a patch of
meadow, then of oats, then of some other crop, no
fences to mark the boundary between them, but all
belonging to different proprietors. The people have
been Roman Catholics from the earliest times, and
seem devoted to their religion, though they have
the enjoue character which belongs to the Belgians.
On Sunday the church is full, both morning and
afternoon, peasant women 011 one side, and peasant
men on the other ; and constantly on the hills and
by the waterside you meet crosses and religious
memorials, consecrating any spot where il est arrive
un malheur, a man killed by a cart upsetting, or a
child drowned. We like the people at this inn
TO MISS ARNOLD. 139
extremely, but they are from a distance, from
Liege. All tlie promise of cheapness has been
kept. I paid yesterday one bill for the first week.
For the board and lodging of the whole party it
was, wine, fire, and light included, 174 francs 20
centimes, under 7, that is including wine. Our
board and lodging at Dover the first week cost 16 !
And our living here is incomparably better, to my
taste, than at any English inn. I think I sent
mamma our bill of fare for one dinner, and it is
the same thing every day. I have made splen-
did fishing here, but the day before yesterday the
weather changed, and it is now much too bright
for fishing; so to-day I have been over a wide
range of country with M. Henrard, our landlord, to
look for snipes. I cannot say we saw many. One
snipe and one hare (both of which M. Henrard
missed) was all the game which showed itself ; but
our walk carried us over a high range of hill, from
which the views were splendid. Everywhere there
is fern and heather, and the ground on the hillside
is smothered in whortle-berry plants, now covered
with 'berries. Almost all the Westmorland flowers
are here; the buck bean is still in flower by the
riverside, and I notice the Lancashire asphodel.
I think we shall certainly stay on for a week or ten
days more, so pray write to us here. The children
are as happy as the day is long. The air is so
good as to be intoxicating, and to-day, what with a
bright sun and the wind in the south, even Flu is
beginning to find it warm enough. That dear soul
is fairly well. We Ijave both longings for the
140 TO MISS ARNOLD.
Rhine, but with our large party we really cannot
afford much money.
To the Same.
VIEL SALM, September 21, 1860.
We are now very full, as the shooting season be-
gan yesterday, and several people from Brussels
and Liege have come here for it. I was out yester-
day from eleven to six, but the weather is detestable,
and the corn being still uncut, we had wretched
sport. But I had a pleasant day, having for my
companion an avocat of Brussels, a very agreeable
man, and seeing this singular country in its details.
It was very rainy and misty in the morning, but
cleared in the afternoon, and the extraordinary
beauty of the hill-villages, surrounded with the most
beautiful green meadows, in the midst of a wilder-
ness of heather and forest, was to be seen in full
perfection. Besides crosses, almost every parish
has in some isolated part of it, among the woods and
hills, a chapel called " Chapelle du Calvaire," and
to come upon these in one's rambles is very striking.
The whole nomenclature of the country bears wit-
ness to its religion, the places named from crosses
are as numerous as the "hams" and "wichs" in
England. There is about here the Croix de PAlle-
mand, the Croix Guillaume, the Croix Henri Ber-
nart, the Croix de Devant les Forges, the Croix de
Champs des Heids. And the same with the streams.
There is the Ruisseau de S. Martin, the Ruisseau de S.
Ruth, the Ruisseau de Fond du Paradis, and I know
not how many more with like names. But the true
TO MISS ARNOLD. 141
natural feature of the country is its beautiful foun-
tains or springs, and names given from these are
everywhere. There is the beautiful village of Arbre
Fontaine, and there is Noire Fontaine, and Blanche
Fontaine, and Grande Fontaine, and Mauvaise
Pierre Fontaine, and nothing can well be more living
and beautiful than the springs from which these
names come. . . . We shall stay on till Wednesday
and complete our three weeks, the cheapest three
weeks I ever spent. On Tuesday the great char-dr
banc which brought us from Spa will come to fetch
us, and on Wednesday morning about ten we hope to
make our start. I have no space to write about
Italy, but how interesting the daily reports are !
Aubrey de Vere might as well ask Pagan Kome what
it thought of the Papacy as Furness Abbey what
it thought of Garibaldi, for Paganism is hardly more
gone by and extinct than Papism. The Times, I see,
blunders intrepidly on as usual. A summary of its
chief Italian articles is given in the Belgian paper
which we see daily.
To the Same.
2 CHESTER SQUARE, October 9, 1860.
MY DEAREST FAN This is actually the first
letter I have written since I returned to England,
though I returned this day week. I have not yet
had the courage to open one of the pile of letters
waiting for me at the Council Office, but now I must
face the situation, and will begin with a pleasant
task that of writing to you for your birthday to-
morrow. Many, many happy returns of it, my
142 TO MISS ARNOLD.
dearest Fan, and with fewer cares than you have
had in the last two or three years. It is a grievous
thing not to spend the day in your company, as I
have spent I know not how many birthdays of yours,
but I shall try and arrange some expedition in hon-
our of the day. But when I write the word Expedi-
tion I think of your mountains in this October sun
and air, and sigh. Even London is looking cheerful.
I am immensely in arrear with news. I had
bought a stamp to put on a letter to mamma which
I was to have written from Brussels, but the letter
was never written, and the stamp remains in my
possession. I seem to myself never to have had a
quiet hour for the last fortnight. I have not brought
down our history later than the Viel Salm. It will
be a fortnight to-morrow since we left it, on a wet
morning, one of the many we had there. The cheap-
ness of living and the obligingness of the inn people
remained the same to the last, but our last Sunday
was the f&te of Viel Salm, and that day, Monday,
and Tuesday there was a ball at our inn, and a
general relaxation and rejoicing, which made our
quarters a little too unsettled and noisy. Still,
we were sorry when the great omnibus which had
brought us came again from Spa to fetch us, and
we started in the rain down the gorge of that beau-
tiful Salm which we had come up three weeks before.
The return journey was the best of the two, for
we had taken the children's dinner with us, and an
immense basket of peaches and nectarines, which
was a parting present from the Henrards, and the
operation of dining made the journey pass quicker
TO MISS ARNOLD. 143
for the children. It cleared when we got half way,
but it was still raw and cold and cloudy when we
reached Spa at four in the afternoon. We drove
straight to the station, and reached Liege after a
change at Pepinstu, just as it got dark. The Hotel
de PEurope at Liege is kept by the father and mother
of M. Henrard, and he had written for rooms for us,
so we found splendid rooms and everything ready.
Here we had our only alarm about little Tom, for
he had complained of fatigue and great pain in his
side from Spa to Liege, and looked dreadfully ill.
Luckily we had kept him always warm, and got him
to the inn at Liege well wrapt up and without catch-
ing cold. There he was put to bed with a fire in his
room, and calomel administered, and the pain passed
off, and he woke the next morning quite himself.
I had never seen Liege, and the next day we devoted
to seeing it. It was quite strange to be in a town
again, with all the luxuries of life which at Viel
Salm we had been without. Liege stands at the
junction of three valleys, the Meuse, the Ousthe, and
the Verdre, and with the Ardennes Mountains all
about it. It is one of the finest towns I have seen,
and the old Bishop's Palace, now the Government
House, quite a model of architecture for public
buildings, to my taste. The vine appears at Liege,
and I had the pleasure of showing little Tom a
vineyard. On the second day we went on to
Brussels, and found good rooms at the Bellevue,
where I had written on beforehand. Brussels I
meant for a consolation to my party for the sim-
plicity and solitude of Viel Salm, which they had
144 TO MISS ARNOLD.
so cheerfully undergone on my account, and cer-
tainly it is one of the gayest and prettiest of cities.
Saturday was passed in shopping, and in the even-
ing Flu and I went to one of the theatres, and
laughed very much. On Sunday morning after
early church Flu and I started in an open car-
riage with two horses for the field of Waterloo
an expedition I had long wanted to make. It
was gray and misty when we left Brussels, but
cleared as we got out of the forest of Soigny and
near Waterloo, and we had a splendid afternoon.
I have seldom been more interested. One has read
the account of the battle so often, the area is so
limited, and the main points of the battle so
simple, that one understands it the moment one
sees the place with one's eyes, and Hougoumont
with its battered walls is a monument such as
few battle-fields retain. Our guide had been Lord
Byron's guide in 1816, and, only a few years ago,
Jerome Bonaparte's, the very man who commanded
the French in their attack on Hougoumont, and
who had never visited the field since. We got
back late to Brussels, and found Lucy better, so
the next day, as the cost of living at the Bellevue
is considerable, we started for Calais, which we
reached, after a long and tiring journey, at ten
at night, having had an hour for dinner at Lille
on the way. The children bore the journey capi-
tally, and I had by letter secured rooms at the
very good clean hotel they have built at the
station, so we were saved the long journey up
into the town to Dessin's. Next morning it was
TO HIS MOTHER. 145
fine, though with a little breeze. In the morning
we all went on the sands, a little after twelve the
children dined, and at a quarter past one we went
on board the packet. On the whole, the passage
was a good one. We met a splendid fast train at
Dover, which took us to London in two hours, and
by half-past seven I had got all our luggage
through the Custom House, and was sitting at
dinner with Flu in this dear little house. Thank
dearest mamma for her long and informing letter,
received at Brussels. Tell her I hope to write to
her on Saturday, and every Saturday. We are
now permanently here for the winter, unless we pay
a visit or two. Lucy is all right again, and the
other children very well. Tom sends you a line
or two with this. My love to dearest mamma,
Susy and John, and all kind friends, as the chil-
dren say in their prayers, and with all our good
wishes, believe me, my dearest Fan, your ever
affectionate brother, M. A.
To his Mother.
LONDON, October 29, 1860.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I will not this time take
a large sheet, I am so pressed for time ; but I will
not let more than a week pass without writing to
you. I am in full work at my lecture l on Homer,
which you have seen advertised in the Times. I
give it next Saturday. I shall try to lay down the
true principles on Avhich a translation of Homer
1 On Translating Homer. Three Lectures given at Oxford.
1861.
VOL. I. L
146 TO MISS ARNOLD.
should be founded, and I shall give a few .passages
translated by myself to add practice to theory.
This is an off lecture, given partly because I have
long had in my mind something to say about Homer,
partly because of the complaints that I did not
enough lecture on poetry. I shall still give the
lecture, continuing my proper course, towards the
end of the term. That, and preparing an introduc-
tion to my foreign Report, will keep me well em-
ployed up to January. But with the limited sphere
of action in outward life which I have, what is life
unless I occupy it in this manner, and keep myself
from feeling starved and shrunk up ? I was away
nearly all last week staying at All Souls, and in the
daytime inspecting at Banbury. Have you had
this wonderful summer weather, which lighted up
for me so beautifully last week the wood and stone
of Oxfordshire? I say and stone because to
my mind the yellows and browns of that oolite
stone, which you may remember about Adderbury
on the road to Oxford, make it one of the most
beautiful things in the world.
To Miss Arnold.
2 CHESTER SQUARE, December 17, 1860.
... I have not been in better case for a long
time, and I attribute it entirely to making greater
demands on myself. If you only half use the
machine it goes badly, but its full play suits it ; and
if I live and do well from now to fifty (only twelve
years ! ), I will get something out of myself. I shall
TO MISS ARNOLD. 147
to-morrow finish my third lecture. It will not be
given till the middle of January, but I want to get
the subject done, and to have my mind free for other
subjects. I have at last got the Commissioner's
distinct leave to publish my Report, 1 with additions,
as a book. It will appear in February. By the
time you come I hope to have finished the introduc-
tion to that and to have got it printed, and to be
well plunged in the Middle Age. I have a strong
sense of the irrationality of that period, and of the
utter folly of those who take it seriously, and play
at restoring it ; still, it has poetically the greatest
charm and refreshment possible for me. The fault
I find with Tennyson in his Idylls of the King is
that the peculiar charm and aroma of the Middle
Age- he does not give in them. There is something
magical about it, and I will do something with it
before I have done. The real truth is that Tenny-
son, with all his temperament and artistic skill, is
deficient in intellectual power ; and no modern poet
can make very much of his business unless he is
pre-eminently strong in this. Goethe owes his
grandeur to his strength in this, although it even
hurt his poetical operations by its immense pre-
dominance. However, it would not do for me to
say this about Tennyson, though gradually I mean
to say boldly the truth about a great many English
celebrities, and begin with Ruskin in these lectures
on Homer. I have been reading a great deal in
the Iliad again lately, and though it is too much to
1 The Popular Education of France, with Notices of that of
Holland and Switzerland. 1861.
148 TO HIS MOTHER,,
say, as the writer in the Biographie Universelle says,
that "none but an Englishman would dream of
matching Shakespeare with the Greeks," yet it is
true that Homer leaves him with all his unequalled
gift and certainly there never was any such natu-
rally gifted poet as far behind as perfection leaves
imperfection,
To his Mother.
2 CHESTER SQUARE, December 31, 1860.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I ought long before this
to have thanked all at Fox How, and you in particu-
lar, for all manner of affectionate letters and mes-
sages on my birthday ; but along with my birthday
arrived a frightful parcel from the Council Office
of grammar papers claiming to be returned, looked
over, not later than to-day. Unluckily, at the same
time I had entangled myself in the study of Greek
accents, led thereto by some remarks on rhythm
which I had to make in my lectures. Accent has a
vital connexion with the genius of a language, as
any one can tell who has observed the effect of his
own language spoken with a foreign accent, and
anything in vital connexion with the genius of such
a language as the Greek must be interesting ; still,
the subject is one of those which lead you on and
on, and I have been obliged to enter in my diary a
solemn resolution not to look again at a treatise on
accents till I have sent in all my papers. To-day,
accordingly, I have sent in the great batch de-
manded of me, but with too great an effort, as in
the early part of the week I had given too much
TO HIS MOTHER, 149
time to my accents, and at the cost of nearly all
duties of correspondence. I have still papers which
will take me till the 24th of the month which begins
to-morrow, but I have now got into the swing of
them, and shall do my daily number with ease in
two and a half hours in the evening, keeping my
mornings for myself. In the next three or four
mornings I must work at my Report for the past
year, but then I hope to give my mornings steadily
to preparing my French Report for the press.
The thaw has come, and I am glad of it, for the
ice was spoiled for skating by the snow. I have
had some pleasant days on the ice with Budge,
Dick, and the nursemaid, but skating here reminds
me too painfully of Westmorland. I begin now
to count the weeks till you and Fan come. I must
now go out and post this ; it is past eleven o'clock,
and I write after coming back from dinner in
Eaton Place, and then before bed I must look
over twenty papers. Little Tom is delightfully
well; he and his brothers are to dine in Eaton
Place at the late dinner on Twelfth Night. They
are dear little boys, and as I work in a morning I
hear Tom's voice in the dining-room reading aloud
to his two brothers, who are seated one on each side
of him. Lucy is getting a rogue of the first water.
My love to all, not forgetting Rowland, and wishing
you all a happy New Year, I am always, my dearest
mother, your most affectionate son, M. A.
150 TO MRS. FORSTER.
To Mrs. Forster.
January 28, 1861.
MY DEAREST K. There are few people of whom
I so often think as of you, though I write to you
so seldom. Your long letter was a great pleasure
to me.
You will have my Homer lectures in a day or
two. They were very well received, and at the
end of the last, which I gave on Saturday to a full
audience, I was cheered, which is very uncommon
at Oxford. Public matters are, as you say, absorb-
ingly interesting. I have not much faith in the
nobility of nature of the Northern Americans. I
believe they would consent to any compromise
sooner than let the Southern States go. However,
I believe the latter mean to go, and think they will
do better by going, so the baseness of the North
will not be tempted too strongly. ! myself think
that people in general have no notion what widely
different nations will develop themselves in Amer-
ica in some fifty years, if the Union breaks up.
Climate and mixture of race will then be enabled
fully to tell, and I cannot help thinking that the
more diversity of nation there is on the American
continent the more chance there is of one nation
developing itself with grandeur and richness. It
has been so in Europe. What should we all be if
we had not one another to check us and to be
learned from. Imagine an English Europe ! How
frightfully borne and dull ! Or a French Europe
either, for that matter. In the appendix to the
last volume of Gnizot's Memoirs there is a letter
TO HIS MOTHER.
151
on American affairs from a very shrewd old fellow,
a member of the Convention and a regicide, who
had taken refuge in Alabama, and lived there till
quite lately, which William should read. I have
got from Senior his last journals, the most inter-
esting series I have seen. They close with a letter
from Lord John Russell to Senior, commenting on
the French conversations recorded in the journals.
This letter was written only last November. It is
very satisfactory, I think, as showing both the deci-
sion and the good sense of Lord John's convictions.
Now I must go to bed. Kiss all the children
for me, and give my love to William. Your ever
most affectionate M. A.
To his Mother.
MAIDSTONE, March 14, 1861.
MY DEAREST MOTHER Many thanks for your
letter, which Flu sent on to me here. I return
the sonnets. I cannot say I think they have any
great poetic value, but they are interesting as com-
ing from Moultrie, 1 and valuable as witnessing to
the indisposition of some among the clergy to join
in any act of persecution against the Essayists and
Eeviewers. It seems to come out clearer and clearer
that, however doubtful may be the position of the
Essayists, there is no ecclesiastical authority which
public opinion is willing to entrust with the power
of censuring or punishing in these matters, and I
think public opinion is right. As to the Essays, 2
1 The Rev. John Moultrie, Rector of Rugby.
2 Essays and Reviews 1861.
152 TO HIS MOTHER.
one has the word of Scripture for it that " new wine
should be put into new bottles," and certainly the
wine of the Essays is rather new and fermenting
for the old bottles of Anglicanism. Still the ten-
dency in England is so strong to admit novelties
only through the channel of some old form, that
perhaps it is in this way that religion in England
is destined to renew itself, and the best of the
Essayists may have some anticipation of this, and
accept their seemingly false position with patience
in this confidence. Temple's position, 1 however,
seems to me very difficult, for the last quarter in
which people in general wish to admit religious
uncertainty is in the education of the young. They
would here have the old remain till the new is
fully matured and ready for use, and I doubt
whether Temple will be able to hold his ground,
or Lord Denbigh 2 to maintain him as your informer
thinks. That absurd correspondence with the
Bishop of Exeter, in which Temple by a mere
blunder managed to extract a most damaging letter
to himself with no reply to it on his part, has done
him, I think, much harm. If he holds on at
Rugby, it will be, it is said, by recruiting the school
from another class than hitherto, a class not ex-
actly the same in social rank, and without the
ecclesiastical attachments of the upper classes.
The other Essayists are quite secure, and will
be rather fomented than abated by all this clamour.
I have had a bad return of my cold, and on Mou-
1 As Head Master of Rugby.
2 One of the Trustees of Rugby School.
TO HIS MOTHER. 153
day was really very much knocked up. I was in
a general state of rheumatism, with a headache
which was perfectly overpowering. Yesterday,
finding myself much distressed while inspecting,
I wrote a note to Lingen l telling him I proposed
not to re-enter a school till my cold was gone, else,
I am told, I shall never shake it off ; and with this
relief, and a few baths at Brighton, I hope to be
myself again soon. In all this discomfort my
introduction has gone on slowly, and it needs so
much tact as to the how much and, the how little to
say that I am never satisfied with it. I hope to
finish it by the end of next week, and then to give
myself a fortnight's holiday before I begin any-
thing else. Inspecting seems mere play when I
have nothing else to do beside it. Your ever
affectionate son, M. A.
To the Same.
LEWES, March 20, 1861.
MY DEAREST MOTHER Flu has sent me your
long letter and Fan's note.
The 4th of April will do beautifully for us. We
shall not let you go quite so soon as the 13th,
though. My dearest mother, it is such a pleasure
to me to think of having you with us once more.
... I went over to Brighton to-day to look at
houses. I have got the help of some of the Sussex
county gentlemen who were on the grand jury
here, and hope to deal with an honest agent, and
get a clean house. We shall take a whole house,
i Secretary to the Education Department.
154 TO HIS MOTHER.
and regularly establish ourselves. This is the dead
season at Brighton, and one can get for five guineas a
week houses that in the winter were fifteen. Before
you finally go north you and Fan must come down
and see us for a day or two. There is nothing else
in England like Brighton, and it is but an hour
from London. It did me good to-day to look over
the wide expanse of sea, and think how my darlings
would be freshened up by it after their measles.
The new baby, 1 or gorilla, as I call her, is a fiend
at night. She nearly wore poor Mrs. Young out,
and I look forward to the sea to make her a little
less restless.
I have had a long, obstinate cold, but am cer-
tainly getting better. I meant to have tried
Mahomet's baths at Brighton, but am so much
better that I do not like to give the time. I refuse
all going out in the evenings to play whist with the
bar, and take as much care of myself as an old
man. My brother-marshal, young Thesiger, Lord
Chelmsford's son, is a very good fellow, and Erie,
the Chief Justice, is one of my favourite Judges,
so our own society is very pleasant. I -could spend
a good deal of time in court on the nisi prius
side, not the criminal if the air was not so bad,
and if I could afford the time; as it is, I work
away in my own room, and am at last getting on
with my Introduction. 2 I have got Sainte Beuve's
new book on Chateaubriand, in which my poem on
Obermann is given. It has given me very great
1 His younger daughter, Eleanor Mary Caroline.
2 TO " The Popular Education of France."
TO HIS MOTHER. 155
pleasure. I keep it to show to you and Pan. The
poem is really beautifully translated, and what
Sainte Beuve says of me is charmingly said. I
value his praise both in itself, and because it car-
ries one's name through the literary circles of
Europe in a way that no English praise can carry
it. But, apart from that, to any one but a glutton
of praise the whole value of it lies in the mode in
which it is administered; and this is administered
by the first of living critics, and with a delicacy
for which one would look in vain here. Tell Fan
I have got her Macaulay's new volume. I hear
my Lectures will be attacked in the Saturday
Review as too French in style. We shall see.
They praise or blame from some absurd pique or
whim, not because the thing is praiseworthy or
blameworthy; and I do not much care for them.
I send the sonnets I forgot last week. Love to
dear Fan and Edward, and believe me always, my
dearest mother, your most affectionate son, M. A.
To the Same.
OXFORD, May 14, 1861.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I have to thank you for
two letters a long one, and a note returning a
letter (of no importance) of a Eussian count who
had been sent with a letter to me. This is the
first summer, or, indeed, spring day. The wind
changed in the night, and to-day it is south-west,
with the lights and airs as they only can be with
the wind in that quarter in May, and spring coining
156 TO HIS MOTHER.
on in its glory over all the country. One -long,
rigid succession of black north-east winds we have
had, lasting even through the rain of Saturday and
Sunday. I thought they would never end, and was
really depressed by them. Even this country I
am so fond of looked forbidding, and the flowers
themselves were no pleasure. However, the change
has come at last. About old May Day (yesterday)
they say one may always look for fine weather, and
the rain, ungenial as it was, has wetted the ground
and vegetation so thoroughly that now the warmth
has come there is yet no sensation of dryness. I
have been at Wantage to-day King Alfred's
birthplace. A wonderful, quiet old Berkshire
town, in the White Horse Vale at the foot of the
downs. I started by the half -past seven train this
morning, and then drove four miles from Farring-
don Road. The Vale is nearly all grass fields,
with trees in a park-like way about them, and
every village quite clustered round with elms; and
the line of the downs bounding it all has great
character, and has always been a favourite object
with me. Presently I am going to my old haunts
among the Cumner Jiills, and shall come back with
plenty of orchises and blue -bells. I left Wantage
at half-past twelve, and am back here by two, hav-
ing had a biscuit and some mulled claret at Didcot.
Getting back so early is one's reward for getting
up early. I am wonderfully changed about that,
now that without the slightest effort I get up at
six, and walk down more than half a mile to take
the early train at half-past seven. It is a great
TO HIS MOTHER. 157
thing in my favour (and that advantage I have
always had) that I am utterly indifferent about the
time of my breakfast, and can wait for it till such
time as it pleases Providence to send it me. I
always like this place, and the intellectual life
here is certainly much more intense than it used
to be; but this has its disadvantages too, in the
envies, hatreds, and jealousies that come with the
activity of mind of most men. Goldwin Smith,
whose attack on Stanley's Edinburgh article 1 has
made much noise, is a great element of bitterness
and strife, though personally a most able, in some
respects even interesting, man; the result is that
all the world here seems more perturbed and ex-
acerbated than of old. If I was disposed to fly for
refuge to the country and its sights and sounds
against the rather humdrum life which prevailed
here in old times, how much more am I disposed
to do this now, convinced as I am that irritations
and envy ings are not only negatively injurious
to one's spirit, like dulness, but positively and
actively.
Talking of irritation, I want Fan to find out
whether Miss Martineau takes my Introduction in
good part, or is still further estranged by it ; if the
latter, I shall be sorry, as it will show that, in
some quarters at any rate, what I sincerely meant
to be conciliating and persuading proves of con-
trary effect. I hear little about my book at pres-
ent, but am easy about it. The great thing is to
produce nothing of which, if it comes into broad
1 On "Essays and Reviews," Edinburgh Review, April 1861.
158 TO HIS MOTHER.
light, you will be ashamed; and then whether it
does come into broad light or no need not much
trouble you. Tell Fan, too, to get Banks 1 to make
his friend at Keswick let me have some salmon
roe this spring; he is to set about this at once, or
it will all be sold. Among the vile poaching fish-
ers of the Lakes one must be armed as they are.
I had a cold, but am all right now. The wind has
changed. Your ever affectionate M. A.
To the Same.
BRIGHTON, June 15, 1861.
MY DEAREST MOTHER My lecture 2 is given,
and my heaviest schools are inspected, and, though
my work will not fairly end till about the 20th of
August, I begin to feel comparatively free, and to
project all sorts of readings, for which I have for
the last few months had little or no time. At this
time of year I am always particularly reminded of
papa, and of what he accomplished in the few years
he had. If he had been alive now he would have
only been just sixty-six! Yet he has been dead
nineteen years. The interest of the world and of
the spectacle of its events as they unroll themselves
is what I regret for him; indeed, this is the main
part of what is valuable in life for anybody.
Children, however, are a great pleasure, or at
least I find mine so. I had not seen them for a
fortnight. Flu had been a week away from them,
and we returned together to them yesterday. We
came by an earlier train than we had meant, so
1 The gardener at Fox How. 2 On Translating Homer.
TO HIS MOTHER. 159
they did not meet us at the station, but we found
them all at home, or close by, in the Square gar-
den. The weather is at last thoroughly hot
weather to enjoy the seaside and the change to it
from London. Dear little Tom has entirely re-
covered under this heat, which relieves his poor
oppressed circulation of all struggle and difficulty.
A very little cough in the early morning is all that
is left of his illness. Budge and Dicky are in
splendid force, and in their brown holland suits
look the most comfortably dressed children in
Brighton. Lucy in her white frock looks as cool
and as pretty a little object as you can imagine.
The worst of the heat is that there is a high wind
with it, a regular sirocco, which to me is exceed-
ingly disagreeable. It gets into every corner of
the house, and nothing is cool except the Wenham
Lake ice at dinner. That is the greatest luxury of
modern times. For threepence one gets enough of
it to cool all one drinks at dinner. The children
are out very late, as till the sun is down it is really
too hot for them. However, Dicky, whenever he
is out, runs all the time at the top of his speed.
Before luncheon to-day he and Budge bathed with
me in a bathing machine, and Tom came to dress
Dicky. It was great fun. It is pleasant to see
how Tom enjoys himself just now.
Budge is going to ride with his mamma this
evening. We do not dine till eight. It is so hot
that I think I shall crawl about with Tom in his
wheel chair, instead of riding. Flu's love to you.
She has got a new photograph-book, and wants you
160 TO HIS MOTHER.
all to send your pictures. I have had some inter-
esting notices of my book, which I will send you
soon. Now I am going out with Flu to pay the
bills. Give Fan a kiss for me. Your ever most
affectionate M. A.
To the Same.
NORWICH, July 30, 1861.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I think it would suit
us, if -it suited you to have us then, to come about
the 23rd or 24th of August, and to stay till the
3rd or 4th of October at any rate, to be back in
London by Saturday the 5th, as we shall have two
or three other visits to pay probably.
This is our last place but one, and this morning
at eleven o'clock the Judge and I go on to Ipswich,
where he opens the Commission at one o'clock.
Yesterday we were over at Lowestoft, which has
grown into a lively watering-place since you saw
it, with an excellent hotel, a crowded port, and a
capital esplanade and piers. The sea was covered
with ships, and it was a fine day with a fresh
breeze, so the Judge enjoyed it very much. Chief
Justice Erie is sleeping there. We mean to ride
on part of the way to Ipswich to-day with his
marshal. You know how much I like Erie, and
this time I have been riding with him a great deal.
He brings three horses round the circuit with him.
The other day I rode with him from Cambridge to
Ely, and went over Ely Cathedral, which they are
restoring magnificently. I had not been in the
cathedral since I was there with you and dear papa,
TO HIS MOTHER. 161
I don't know how many years ago, the same day
that he carried me up to the top of Peterborough
Cathedral on his back ; and to this moment I can
see the roofs of the Peterborough houses as I then
saw them from the tower, and the tower of Ely as
I then saw it from the carriage. I find the mem-
ory and mention of dear papa everywhere far
oftener than I tell you among the variety of
people I see. This variety is nowhere greater
than on circuit. I find people are beginning to
know something about me myself, but I am still far
oftener an object of interest as his son than on my
own account. You will have seen the attack on
me in the Saturday Review,* which I had heard a
long time ago was coming. When first I read a
thing of this kind I am annoyed ; then I think how
certainly in two or three days the effect of it upon
me will have wholly passed off; then I begin to
think of the openings it gives for observations in
answer, and from that moment, when a free activity
of the spirit is restored, my gaiety and good spirits
return, and the article is simply an object of inter-
est to me. To be able to feel thus, one must not
have committed oneself on subjects for which one
has no vocation, but must be on ground where one
feels at home and secure that is the great secret
of good-humour. I shall probably give a fourth
lecture next term to conclude the subject, and -then
I shall try to set things straight, at the same' tame
soothing Newman's 2 feelings which I am really
1 " Homeric Translators and Critics," Saturday Review, July
27, 1861. 2 Professor F. W. Newman.
VOL. i. M
162 TO MRS. FORSTER.
sorry to have hurt as much as I can without
giving up any truth of criticism. I have just been
appointed one of the Committee for regulating the
Educational Section at the Great Exhibition next
year; this will give me certain privileges and ad-
missions, which I hope to avail myself of in your
company. My love to Mary, and very kind remem-
brances to Mr. Hiley. On Thursday or Friday I
hope to be in London again. Your ever most
affectionate M. A.
To Mrs. Forster.
IPSWICH, July 31, 1861.
MY DEAREST K. This will reach you on your
birthday. How the years fly ! and at twenty what
would one have thought of the twenty years be-
tween forty and sixty, even supposing them secured
to one? The twenty years from twenty to forty
seemed all life to one then, the very heart of one's
time here, the period within which all that was
interesting and successful and decisive in one's life
was to fall. And now, at forty, how undecided
and unfinished and immature everything seems
still, and will seem so, I suppose, to the end.
At Norwich the other night, at dinner at Canon
Heaviside's, the sheriff for the city asked to be
introduced to me, and it turned out that he asked
this because he knew William, and had known his
family so well. It was a Dr. Dalrymple. I had
noticed him at dinner for the cleverness and in-
formation he showed in conversing, and Erie was
very much struck with him too. He said he had
attended William's mother in her last illness, and
TO MRS. FORSTER. 163
seemed to have been greatly struck and interested
both with her and his father, and to like to speak
of them. I could have stayed a long time in Nor-
wich. It is like Bristol, an old city and not a
modern town, and it stands so picturesquely, and
has so many old bits, and the water winds about
it so, and its cathedral and thirty-eight churches
make such a show, that I got at last quite the feel-
ing of being in some old town on the Continent.
The tower and nave of the cathedral seem to me
not surpassed by anything in the English cathe-
drals ; the spire, of course, is beaten by Salisbury,
but the tower of Salisbury is not to compare with
Norwich. And then the music was so good as
powerfully to impress even me. On Sunday even-
ing Erie, with the other marshal and me, got up
to the top of Household Heath, where the butts for
rifle-shooting are now one of the best ranges in
England, tell William, and the view of the city
and the successive horizons all round was such as
is seldom to be seen. Norfolk seems to me, as
country, much underrated, and I could live there
very well, while Cambridgeshire, Huntingdonshire,
and Lincolnshire I should find detestable. We
had a beautiful house, on a hill, quite out of the
town, standing in its own grounds. This Ipswich
is a curious place too, and, like Norwich, is un-
like the Midland towns, Derby, Leicester, Notting-
ham, etc., by seeming so much older and so much
more of a provincial capital. I hope to-morrow to
go down the Orwell to Harwich, and on Friday to
get back to London.
164 TO HIS MOTHER.
You will have seen the amenities of the Saturday
Review. It seems affected to say one does not care
for such things, but I do really think my spirits re-
bound after them sooner than most people's. The
fault of the reviewer, as of English criticism in
general, is that whereas criticism is the most deli-
cate matter in the world, and wants the most
exquisite lightness of touch, he goes to work in
such a desperate heavy-handed manner, like a bear
in a china-shop if a bear can be supposed to have
hands. I daresay I shall find an opportunity to
set straight all that needs to be set straight in what
both he and Newman 1 have brought forth. The
disadvantage under which both of them labour is
that the subject is not one for learning nor for
violence, but rather for a certain finesse.
I send you a letter from old E,apet, 2 who knows,
Guizot says, more of the French system than any
other man living. My love to William, and to
that darling Fan, and believe me always, my
dearest K., your most affectionate M. A.
To his Mother.
FOLKESTONE, August 15, 1861.
. . . Budge very nearly wheedled me into bring-
ing him all by himself, but, as I told him, I should
have found him, when I came back from my
schools, making mud-pies in the harbour with all
the dirty little ragamuffins of Folkestone. I meet
1 Homeric Translation in theory and practice : A Reply to
Matthew Arnold, Esq., by Francis W. Newman. 1861.
2 See vol. ii. p. 241.
TO HIS MOTHER. 165
here and at Dover a vast number of people I know ;
that, too, is a sign one is getting old. I came here
at twenty-four without meeting a soul I knew, and
that was the best time, too. Tell Fan I must finish
off for the present my critical writings between this
and forty, and give the next ten years earnestly to
poetry. It is my last chance. It is not a bad ten
years of one's life for poetry if one resolutely uses
it, but it is a time in which, if one does not use
it, one dries up and becomes prosaic altogether.
Thackeray is here with his daughters. I see a
good deal of him. He is much interested in me
just now because of the Saturday Review's attack,
he also being an object of that newspaper's dislike.
Their calling anybody conceited is, he says, the most
amusing piece of audacity he ever knew. Lady de
Eothschild 1 is at Dover; the Balguys too, and a
number of other people I know, and whom I stum-
bled on one after the other. Next week I sleep
on Monday at Faversham, at a friend's house, on
Tuesday at Tunbridge Wells, at another friend's;
then I have a day or two to wind up my affairs in
London, and on Friday I think we shall all come
to you, if that day suits you the 23rd.
To the Same.
ALVER BANK, October 16, 1861.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I have never thanked
you for your last week's letter, and, besides, I wish
to stick to my day, so I begin this, though I am
1 Nee Louisa Montcfiore ; wife of Sir Anthony de Rothschild.
166 TO HIS MOTHER.
not quite sure of finishing it. We go to London
to-morrow with Lady Wightman. The extended
holiday in country air has gone, I hope, to lay in
a stock of vigour for the coming year, but I have
not been so well here as I was at Fox How bil-
ious and headachy, and this place is very, very
far from being to me what Fox How is. The sea
is a fine object, but it does not replace mountains,
being much simpler and less inexhaustible than
they, with their infinite detail, are ; and the coun-
try hereabout is too hideous. Then the place, as
a place, is so far less pleasant than Fox How, and
the grounds so inferior, and it is melancholy to see
the pines struggling for life and growth here, when
one remembers their great rich shoots at Fox How.
But I have been much struck with the arbutus in
the grounds of a villa close by this, and it seems
to me we do not turn that beautiful shrub to enough
account at Fox How. I should think our soil and
air were just the thing for it. You ask me about
shrubs. On the left hand of the path, as you go
from the drawing-room window to the hand-bridge,
nothing is to be put in except one evergreen, to
make a sort of triangle with the little cypress and
the odd-leaved beech. On the other side are to
be rhododendrons, with a few laurels interspersed,
but neither the one nor the other thick enough to
make a jungle. I wish I could see the place at
this moment, and how the changes look.
We have had the most wonderful weather days
without a cloud, and a sun so hot as to be al-
most unbearable without shade. Yesterday, being
TO HIS MOTHER. 167
Budge's birthday, Flu, I, Tom, Budge, and Dick
went at half-past ten into Gosport in the carriage,
got into a boat, and scrambled on board the Ryde
steamer off the Portsmouth landing-stage just as
her paddles began to move, to Flu's great alarm;
crossed over to Hyde, passing the Warrior at Spit-
head, drove through that beautiful Isle of Wight
to Whippingham, and got out at the church. I
called on Mr. Protheroe, but he is out on his holi-
day. I got the key of the church, however, but
they have been rebuilding it, and the tablets are
standing on the pavement of the chancel, one over
the other. I made out the upper half of grandpapa
Arnold's, 1 and the whole of Uncle Matt's; whether
there are any more I don't know. I must go and
see them again when the church is finished and the
tablets refixed. Then we droye on past Osborne
to East Cowes, and dined the children at the
Medina Hotel, where I was with you and papa on
that delightful tour in the island some twenty-five
years ago. I took Flu to Slatwoods, 2 but it is sold
already to a building society, and the grounds all
torn up with roads and excavations they are mak-
ing. The house and five acres are to be resold
separate. All had gone to ruin, however, and
there was much overgrowth. I made up my mind,
however, that at its very best of times Slatwoods
can never have been for a single moment to com-
pare with Fox How. Both look to the north, but
Fox How, at any rate, stands admirably, while
1 His grandfather was Collector of Customs at Cowes.
2 Dr. Arnold's early home.
168 THE REVISED CODE.
Slatwoods is put all in the wrong place. We went
over in a boat to West Cowes Castle, now the
Yacht Club-house, and Flu and Budge went to see
Cyril at Egypt House, while Tom, Dick, and I
strolled slowly through Cowes to the steamer pier.
Flu and Budge only got back just in time, and at
five we started for Portsmouth, again, touching at
Eyde. Norris Castle and Osborne under the mag-
nificent sunset were splendid, and I was glad to see
the tower of Eaglehurst and Calshot Castle again.
We caught the steam bridge at Portsmouth and got
a fly at the landing in Gosport, and were back here
about seven, in time for a half -past seven dinner.
We go back to London to-morrow. My love to
Fan. Your ever most affectionate M. A.
At this period Matthew Arnold became involved
in an educational controversy, the history of which
may best be given in his own words :
" The appointment of the Commission ' to inquire
into the present state of popular education in Eng-
land, ' commonly known as the Duke of Newcastle's
Commission, was due to the apprehensions caused
by the rapid growth of the Parliamentary grant.
The Commission reported in 1861. By a large
majority, the Commissioners decided on recom-
mending the continuance of public aid on an unre-
duced scale to both normal and elementary schools.
They enounced the opinion, however, that the
actual system of grants was too complicated, and
THE REVISED CODE. 169
that it threatened to become unmanageable by the
central office, and they proposed to transfer to
the local rates a considerable part of the charge.
The grant then stood at about three-quarters of a
million. The Commissioners proposed to lay on
the county rates a charge calculated at 428,000 a
year for the present. Moreover, they had con-
vinced themselves that insufficient attention was
paid to junior classes in elementary schools; that
the teachers were tempted to be too ambitious, and
to concentrate their attention on a showy upper
class, while the bulk of the scholars were compara-
tively neglected, and failed to acquire instruction
in 'the most necessary part of what they came to
learn/ reading, writing, #nd arithmetic, in which
only one-fourth of the school children, it was al-
leged, attained any tolerable knowledge. But the
Commissioners thought that, even under the pres-
ent conditions of age and attendance, it would be
possible, if the teachers had a strong motive to
make them bring the thing about, for at least three-
fifths of the children on the books of the schools
the three-fifths who were shown to attend one hun-
dred days and upwards 'to read and write without
conscious difficulty, and to perform such arithmet-
ical operations as occur in the common business of
life; 1 To supply the teachers with the requisite
motive, therefore, the grant from the county rates
was to take the form of a capitation grant, depend-
ent on the number of scholars who could pass an
examination in reading, writing, and arithmetic.
"The Vice-President of the Education Depart-
170 THE REVISED CODE.
merit in 1861 was Lord Sherbrooke, then Mr. Lowe,
an acute and brilliant man, to whom pretentious-
ness with unsoundness was very distasteful and
contemptible. The permanent Secretary was one
of the best and most faithful of public servants,
the present * Lord Lingen, who saw with apprehen-
sion the growth of school grants with the complica-
tion attending them, and was also inclined to doubt
whether Government had not sufficiently done its
work, and the schools might not now be trusted to
go alone. These powerful officials seized upon the
statements and proposals of the Commissioners,
and produced, as a consequence of them, the
Revised Code. But they went far beyond the
Commissioners. The training schools were to lose
their lecturers 7 salaries, the stipends of pupil
teachers and the augmentation grants of masters
and mistresses were to be discontinued; everything
was to be capitation grant, dependent on the ability
of the individual scholars to pass an examination
in reading, writing, and arithmetic, an examina-
tion for which they were to be arranged in four
groups according to their age. The system of
bounties and protection, said Mr. Lowe, had been
tried and had failed; now another system should
be tried, a system under which he would promise
that popular education, if not efficient, should at
least be cheap, and if not cheap, should be efficient.
" There was a great outcry. It was said that, if
the Government grant had increased, so had volun-
tary contributions; the one-third of the cost of
i Written in 1887.
THE REVISED CODE. 171
popular education which the State contributed had
called forth two-thirds from local and private
sources to meet it, and this resource it was now
proposed to discourage and endanger. The im-
proved schools had been but a dozen years at
work; they had had to civilise the children as
well as to instruct them; reading, writing, and
ciphering were not the whole of education; people
who were so impatient because so many of the
children failed to read, write, and cipher correctly
did not know what the children were when they
came to school, or what were the conditions of the
problem which their educators had to solve. Sir
James Shuttle worth maintained that, so far from
its being true that all the children who had been
at school for one hundred days and upwards in the
year preceding the examination ought to be able to
pass in reading, writing, and arithmetic, only those
of them who had attended more than two years
were fit subjects for the examination proposed.
" The impossibility of preparing the bulk of the
children to pass the examination proposed was, no
doubt, exaggerated. We have seen what can be
accomplished in this line by preparers. On the
other hand, I have always thought that the Com-
missioners, fii ding in the state of the junior
classes and of the elementary matters of instruc-
tion a point easy to be made and strikingly effec-
tive, naturally made it with some excess of energy,
and pressed it too hard. I knew the English
schools well in this period, between 1850 and 1860,
and at the end of it I was enabled to compare them
172 THE REVISED CODE.
with schools abroad. Some preventible neglect of
the junior classes, some preventible shortcoming
in the elementary instruction, there was; but not
nearly so much as was imagined. What there was
would have been sufficiently met by a capitation
grant on individual examination, not for the whole
school, but for the children between seven or eight
years old, and nine or ten, a grant which would
then have been subsidiary, not principal. General
'payment by results' has been a remedy worse than
the disease which it was meant to cure.
" The opposition to Mr. Lowe's Kevised Code of
1862 so far prevailed that it was agreed to pay
one-third of the Government grant on attendance,
and but two-thirds on examination. Moreover, the
grouping by age was abandoned, and the arrange-
ment of the children in six classes, or standards,
as they have come to be called, was substituted for
it. The teacher presented the child in the standard
for which he thought him fit ; he must present him
the next time, however, in a standard above that.
"The capitation grant on attendance was four
shillings; that on examination was twice that
amount, one-third of which was forfeited for a
failure in reading, or writing, or arithmetic. This
latter grant has governed the instruction and in-
spection of our elementary schools ever since. I
have never wavered in the opinion most unaccept-
able to my official chiefs that such a consequence
of the Eevised Code was inevitable, and also harm-
ful. To a clever Minister and an austere Secretary,
to the House of Commons and the newspapers, the
TO HIS MOTHER. 173
scheme of ' payment by results,' and those results,
reading, writing, and arithmetic, 'the most neces-
sary part of what children come to school to learn 7
a scheme which should make public education
' if not efficient, cheap, and if not cheap, efficient, '
was, of course, attractive. It was intelligible,
plausible, likely to be carried, likely to be main-
tainable, after it had been carried. That, by con-
centrating the teachers' attention upon enabling
his scholars to pass in the three- elementary mat-
ters, it must injure the teaching, narrow it, and
make it mechanical was an educator's objection
easily brushed aside by our public men. It was
urged by Sir James Shuttleworth, but this was
attributed to a parent's partiality for the Minutes
of 1846 and the Old Code founded on them, a Code
which the Revised Code had superseded. But the
objection did really occur to him and weigh with
him, because he was a born educator, and had seen
and had studied the work of the great Swiss edu-
cators, Pestalozzi, Fellenberg, Vehrli. It occurred
to me because I had s.een the foreign schools. No
serious and well-informed student of education,
judging freely and without 'bias, will approve the
Revised Code."
To his Mother.
THE ATHENAEUM, November 13, 1861.
MY DEAREST MOTHER Thank you for your
letter. It is very pleasant to have such a good
account of that dear old Susy. My cold is gone,
174 TO HIS MOTHER.
and I am all right, except that in the foggy mornings
I sometimes feel, as every one must feel, my throat
uncomfortable. I am taking one or two of the
spare days left to me to begin either my lecture or
my article on the Code. I do not quite know
whether I will not put off the latter till January's
Fraser. Shuttleworth has just published a most
important pamphlet, and it is said that the Dean
of Hereford, Dawes, is preparing an answer. Der-
went Coleridge, too, is said to have a pamphlet in
the press, and my object is rather to sum up the
controversy, to give the general result of the whole
matter, and to have the last word. My disinclina-
tion to begin anything has, however, I daresay, a
large share in my disposition to put off the thing
for a month. In the meantime I begin neither the
article nor the lecture, and the next fortnight I
shall have a bad time of it, I suspect. Shuttle-
worth's pamphlet is most effective. You should
order it it only costs a shilling. For the general
reader and for members of Parliament there is
a little too much detail,* and the matter is hardly
enough treated in its first principles for my taste,
but for the large body of persons who have a finger
in schools for the poor it is just the thing. It sells
like wild-fire. One Educational Society alone, the
Wesley an, has taken a thousand copies, and the
Educational Societies jointly are sending a copy
to every member of both Houses of Parliament.
Shuttleworth tells me the printer can hardly print
them fast enough. We had a pleasant dinner-party
the other night. Eroude I always find attractive,
TO HIS MOTHER. 175
though I think he has very sinister ways of looking
at history. On Monday we went to see Fechter in
Othello. The two first acts I thought poor (Shake-
speare's fault, partly), the two next effective, and
the last pretty well. Wyndham Slade had the stage
box lent him, and I joined him there for two acts.
I had a very pleasant day at Aston Clinton * with
the Rothschilds last Friday, and a superb game of
croquet with the girls. Such a lawn, tell Fan !
perfectly smooth, yet so wide that in no direction
could you croquet to the end of it. Their croquet
things were very grand, and much heavier than ours.
At first this put me out, but it is an advantage when
you get used to it, and you have infinitely more
power with the heavy mallets. Afterwards I had
a long walk with the girls in the woods of the
Chilterns. They are all great favourites of mine,
the mother particularly. I brought away the photo-
graphs of the girls, and am to have Lady de Roths-
child's when she has had a good one done. I went
myself and sat, or rather stood, to Silvy last Satur-
day, but don't know the result yet. However, the
day was favourable, and Silvy said he was well
satisfied.
One of my School Committee told me yesterday
he was going to have tea at Brixton with a lady who
had called her school " Laleham " in honour of papa.
Tell Fan I have just been correcting my proofs
for Miss Procter; but I don't know when the book 2
1 Sir Anthony de Rothschild's house near Tring.
2 Victoria Regia. A volume of original contributions in
poetry and prose, edited by Adelaide A. Procter. 1861.
176 TO HIS MOTHER.
will be out. I think you will all be pleased with
my poem. 1 As to your coming south we like to
have you at any time, but for your own sakes it
would be monstrous that you should come and go
before the Exhibition opens. Love to Susy, Fan,
and John Cropper. Your ever affectionate
M. A.
To the Same.
2 CHESTER SQUARE, November 20, 1861.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I was up at a quarter
past seven this morning, breakfasted tete-a-tete with
Dicky, and before nine was off to Euston Square on
my way to Bushey, near Watford. I am only just
returned, and have not much time before the post
goes. However, I will not break my Wednesday
rule if I can help it. First of all, you will expect
me to say something about poor Clough. 2 That is
a loss which I shall feel more and more as time goes
on, for he is one of the few people who ever made
a deep impression upon me, and as time goes on,
and one finds no one else who makes such an im-
pression, one's feeling about those who did make it
gets to be something more and more distinct and
unique. Besides, the object of it no longer survives
to wear it out himself by becoming ordinary and
different from what he was. People were beginning
to say about Clough that he never would do any-
thing now, and, in short, to pass him over. I fore-
see that there will now be a change, and attention
1 " A Southern Night."
2 Arthur Hugh Clough died at Florence, November 13, 18G1.
TO HIS MOTHER. 177
will be fixed on what there was of extraordinary
promise and interest in him when young, and of
unique and imposing even as he grew older without
fulfilling people's expectations. I have been asked
to write a Memoir of him for the Daily News, but
that I cannot do. I could not write about him in
a newspaper now, nor can, I think, at length in a
review, but I shall some day in some way or other
relieve myself of what I think about him.
I know no details except that he died at Florence.
I heard this in a note from Lingen the day before
his death appeared in the newspaper. His wife
was with him.
I have put off my article on the Code till Janu-
ary, and have now time for my Homer lecture. 1
As I get into it, it interests me and amuses me.
There will be very little controversy in it, but I
shall bring out one or two points about the grand
style and the ballad style, so as to leave what I
have said in the former lectures as firm and as
intelligible as possible, and then I shall leave the
subject.
We had a visit at Copford 2 that I liked very
much. We took that darling Dick (I hope Flu told
you about his birthday, though I did not), and the
child's pleasure in the country and in his cousins'
company was pleasant to see. The rectory is a very
good house indeed, and the living the best but one
in all that part of the country ; but what pleased
1 On Translating Homer : Last Words. 1862.
2 His wife's brother-in-law, the Rev. Peter Wood, was Rector
of Copford, Essex.
VOL. I. N
178 TO HIS MOTHER.
me most was the deeply rural character of the vil-
lage and neighbourhood. I hardly know any coun-
try with the secluded and rural character of North
Essex. It is quite unlike the counties (out of
Westmorland) that you know best Nottingham-
shire and Warwickshire. It seems immensely old,
and is full of old halls and woods and hollows and
low ranges of hills, and then eight or nine miles off
across the most deeply quiet part of the country
is the sea. I daresay we shall go there once or
twice every year ; the Woods are the most hospita-
ble people in the world. It is a place where I could
be well content, if I was the rector of it, to think
that I should end my days and lay my bones.
Your ever affectionate M. A.
To the Same.
YORK, December 8, 1861.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I have not had your let-
ter for this last week, but I have no doubt I shall
find it in London to-morrow, so I will not return
without discharging my debt. I left London last
Tuesday with the Judge and Georgina, and just as
it was getting dark we arrived, in a thick fog, at
Durham. We were all lodged in the castle, huge old
rooms with walls of vast thickness, and instead of
paper on the walls, sombre tapestry, all in greens and
browns, representing Pharaoh, King of Egypt, and
his adventures. But the next day was splendid,
and having sworn in the Grand Jury, I proceeded
to made the tour of Durham, and certainly my early
TO HIS MOTHER. 179
recollection of it did not approach the reality. The
view from the castle itself, at the top of a steep hill,
is very grand and Edinburghesque ; but when you
cross the Wear by the Prebend's Bridge and, as-
cending through its beautiful skirt Of wood, plant
yourself on the hill opposite the cathedral, the view
of the cathedral and castle together is superb ; even
Oxford has no view to compare with it. The coun-
try too has a strong turbulent roll in it which
smacks of the north and of neighbouring mountains,
and which greatly delighted me. I made my way
to Nevill's Cross and some way up the glen of a
feeder of the Wear, and the fern and water-breaks
and distant moon .were as northern as possible. I
was most agreeably disappointed, for I had fancied
Durham rising out of a cinder bed. I finished by
the observatory, a point on a range higher than the
hill just in face of the cathedral, but commanding
much the same view in greater perspective. All
the University men were very civil and hospitable
indeed, but I could not avail myself of their offers.
Dr. Jenkyns wrote me a very kind note, saying he
was an old friend of yours and papa's, and begging
me to come and dine with him. I could not dine
with him, but went and called, and was greatly
pleased. He said the Dean, 1 having just learned
from him who I was, was also anxious to see me ;
but I could not call on him then, as we were just
going to start, but left civil messages. The Dean
ought to have asked the Judge and all of us to
dinner, but two judges lately kept him waiting for
i Dr. Waddington, celebrated for gastronomy.
180 TO HIS MOTHER.
dinner till past nine o'clock, and he is said to have
vowed he will never ask a judge again. I saw be-
fore starting all the lions of the cathedral and castle.
I should say the Durham music was greatly over-
rated had I not heard one anthem, which was really
superb. I heard nothing, however, approaching
the trebles of Norwich, and the Durham people say
they are not in tip-top condition just now as to their
choir. We got here to dinner yesterday, and to-
morrow I return to town. It was tantalising to
pass Darlington, and to think that some three and
a half hours would have brought me to you, and by
a country, too, that I above all things wish to see.
You have the Forsters with you now. How full
William will be of this American difficulty ! Tell
him I hope the Americans wMl not cease to be af-
flicted until they learn thoroughly that man shall
not live by Bunkum alone. Kiss K. for me, like-
wise Fan. Ever your most affectionate M. A.
To the Same.
CHESTER SQUARE, December 18, 1861.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I need not say how much
it always pleases me that you all should like what
I do, above all, when my subject is such as in the
Victoria Eegia poem. 1 And my darling K. too, my
first reader (or hearer), and who perhaps has even
now the first place in my heart as the judge of my
poems. ... I told you all you would like this poem.
No one had seen or heard a word of it, not even
i" A Southern Night."
TO HIS MOTHER. 181
Fanny Lucy. . . . But my poems I am less and less
inclined to show or repeat, although if I lived with
K. I daresay I should never have got out of the
habit of repeating them to her. I had seen the
Spectator, and the Examiner too speaks of the poem
very warmly. These are the only papers that have
yet mentioned the collection. Fanny du Quaire,
who is herself delighted with the poem, says that
every one else is, that it is far the best thing in the
collection, etc. That dear old Edward will like it,
I know, and so will the dear children, some day
years hence.
I had not the slightest intention of giving a guinea
to see my own performance in print, but yesterday
Fanny Lucy bothered me so for a sight of the book
that I ordered it, and this morning I have a very
civil note from Miss Faithfull, thanking me for the
poem, and expressing her admiration of it, and
sending me the volume. So I have sent back the
one I had ordered, and saved my guinea. To be
sure I have not quite saved that, for I have bought
Cowper's poems instead. But these I had long
wanted; it is the three volume edition, and the
best, and I had only single poems of Cowper, a poet
whom I esteem more and more.
You may imagine the consternation produced here
by Prince Albert's death, 1 and one could not help
feeling it as an almost overwhelming blow at the
first moment. But every one seems to be settling
into some hope that the Queen may yet do well and
bear up. He is said to have had some conversation
i December 14, 1861.
182 TO HIS MOTHER.
with her in the last two or three days, and to have
exhorted her to take courage and to keep herself
calm; and she is certainly behaving beautifully.
The children talk much of this death, and Flu
overheard Dicky telling Lucy that he was gone to
Heaven. Upon which Lucy answered, " Should I
like Heaven, Wichard dear ? " " Oh yes, darling,"
says Dicky, " so much ! there's tookey there, and
toyshops, and such beautiful dollies ! " Fan will
be amused with the first place given by Dick to
croquet, even in Heaven.
Every one I see is very warlike. I myself think
that it has become indispensable to give the Ameri-
cans a mdral lesson, and fervently hope that it will
be given them ; but I am still inclined to think that
they will take their lesson without war. However,
people keep saying they won't. The most remark-
able thing is that that feeling of sympathy with
them (based very much on the ground of their
common radicalness, dissentingness, and general
mixture of self-assertion and narrowness) which I
thought our middle classes entertained seems to
be so much weaker than was to be expected. I
always thought it was this sympathy, and not cot-
ton, that kept our Government from resenting their
insolences, for I don't imagine the feeling of kinship
with them exists at all among the higher classes ;
after immediate blood relationship, the relationship
of the soul is the only important thing, and this
one has far more with the French, Italians, or
Germans than with the Americans. Your ever
affectionate M. A,
TO HIS MOTHER. 183
To the Same.
February 19, 1862.
MY DEAREST MOTHER My hand is so tired I
can hardly write, but I wish to keep to my day this
week after being so irregular for the last month. I
have just finished correcting the proofs of my arti-
cle for F'raser, and, what was harder, retouching
and adding as was necessary. It will be very long,
but I think not dull. Lowe's attack on the in-
spectors quite relieved me from all scruples in
dealing with him, and I think my comments on his
proceedings will be found vivacious. As to the
article making a sensation, that I by no means ex-
pect. I never expect anything of mine to have
exactly the popular quality necessary for making a
sensation, and perhaps I hardly wish it. But I
daresay it will be read by some influential people
in connexion with the debate which will soon come
on. Froude's delay has certainly proved not un-
fortunate, as the present is a more critical moment
for the article to appear than the beginning of the
month, when Lowe's concessions were not answered,
and could not be discussed.
Now I have to finish correcting my Homer lecture,
which I am afraid will provoke some dispute. I
sincerely say " afraid," for I had much rather avoid
all the sphere of dispute. One begins by saying
something, and if one believes it to be true one
cannot well resist the pleasure of expanding and
establishing it when it is controverted ; but I had
rather live in a purer air than that of controversy,
and when I have done two more things I must do
184 TO HIS MOTHER.
an article on Middle-Class Education and one on
Academies (such as the French Academy), both of
which will raise opposition and contradiction, I
mean to leave this region altogether and to devote
myself wholly to what is positive and happy, not
negative and contentious, in literature.
You ask me about Tennyson's lines. 1 I cannot
say I think they have much poetical value. They
are, as you say, very just, but so was one of the
Times leaders about the same subject, and above
the merit of just remark and proper feeling these
lines do not appear to me to rise ; but to arrive
at the merit of poetical beauty you must rise a long
way above these. Bead, in connexion with this piece
of Tennyson's, Manzoni's Cinqua Maggio (on the
death of Napoleon), and you will see what I mean.
We dined last night with the Forsters, and met
Stansfeld, the member for Halifax, a clever and in-
teresting man. Dear K.'s presence in London is a
great pleasure to me. She and William dine with
Wm. Delafield on Monday, and we meet them there.
I have more dining out than I care for, and more
eating and drinking. How I should like a week
with you and Fan ! I am glad to think of your hav-
ing the gold medal ; 2 you heard I saw no likeness
at all in Wyon's attempt, but K. thinks that there
is a general likeness to our family type in it. At
any rate, I should much like to see the gold medal.
Believe me always your most affectionate son,
M. A.
1 On the Prince Consort.
2 To commemorate the administrative work done in the Pun-
jab by his brother, William Delafield Arnold.
TO HIS MOTHER. 185
To the Same.
THE ATHENAEUM, February 26, 1862.
MY DEAREST MOTHER Let me hear whether
you have ordered Fraser, as, if you have not, I
will send you my copy, but I shall not be able to
send it you till next week. I think you will find
my article 1 lively, and presenting the subject in ifs
essence, free from those details with which it is gen-
erally encumbered, and which make " outsiders " so
afraid of it. At the end Lowe's speech is noticed
sharply enough, but I have no fears whatever of
Lowe's vengeance : first, because he cannot officially
notice an article not signed with my name ; sec-
ondly, because if he did, public opinion would sup-
port an inspector, attacked as we have been by
Lowe, in replying in the only way open to us;
thirdly, because, even if public opinion condemned
what I did, it would never stand Lowe's resenting
it, as he does precisely the same thing himself in
the Times. Whenever he has a grudge at the Min-
istry of which he is a subordinate member he at-
tacks it there. So I feel quite safe, and in hopes
of having done something to ward off the heaviest
blow dealt at civilisation and social improvement
in my time.
I think you are quite wrong in thinking Lowe's
side to be the " popular " one ; Jane, too, was quite
astonished when I told her you called it so. A cer-
tain number of the upper classes, who have a keen
sense for the follies and weaknesses which teachers
and scholars have under our present system shown,
i " The Twice Revised Code," Fmser's Magazine, March 1862.
186 TO HIS MOTHER.
may be glad to see Lowe attack it, but all the peti-
tions are against him, and none on his side, and
that shows which way is the real weight of " popu-
larity." And to hold his ground at all, he has to
"dress " his case and make out that he is not doing
a great deal which he really is doing and wishes to
do. And, after all, he will be beaten ; that is, the
House of Commons will pour upon him the double
grant the subsidy as well as the prize-grant
whereas he is fighting tooth and nail to have this
latter only.
It is rumoured at the office that I am writing
something about this matter, and as I have used
in published books the signature of A, and the
office people are not the most discerning of critics,
and I hate to have things not mine fathered upon
me, I wished Edward had written under a different
initial. But it does not matter now, as I have told
Lingen the letters were not mine. With love to
all at Fox How, ever your most affectionate
M. A.
To the Same.
HERTFORD, March 5, 1862.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I write to you from the
Crown Court at Hertford. This is the third year
running that I have found myself here just about
this time. I had an inclination to relaxed sore throat
and headache, and the fine country air and cold of
Hertford Castle, where we are lodged, will, I hope,
do me some good. I expect we shall finish here
to-morrow, though not perhaps in time to get back
to London to-morrow night.
TO HIS MOTHER. 187
Being out of the way of schools and school man-
agers at Fox How, I think you have no notion how
warm an interest the former create, and how large
a part of society is to be found among the latter.
So that a measure which is supposed to threaten
them ought to be very strong and sound in itself.
And this the Revised Code is not, nor have its
defenders ever made any really strong point, or got
beyond being plausible. This is proved by there
not being a single petition in their favour ; no one
cares enough about them to take this trouble. So,
in spite of the Times, I think they will be beaten.
I hope I have supplied a readable popular state-
ment of the case against them which will take
hold and do good. Lady de Rothschild writes me
word that she is making Disraeli read it, who wants
just such a brief to speak from ; and Shuttle worth
and his Anti-Code Committee think it may be so
useful that they have asked me to get leave from
the Editor for them to reprint it for distribution to
members of Parliament. And, whether they get it
from this article or not, I see Lord Derby and the
Bishop of Oxford 1 are coming to take the very
ground I could wish them to take, namely, that the
State has an interest in the primary school as a
civilising agent, even prior to its interest in it as an
instructing agent. When this is once clearly seen
nothing can resist it, and it is fatal to the new Code.
If we can get this clearly established in this discus-
sion a great point will have been gained for the
future dealings of the State with education, and I
i Dr. Wilberforce.
188 TO HIS WIFE.
shall hope to see State-control reach in time our
middle and upper schools.
I am surprised myself at the length of many of
the sentences in my article, but I find that for every
new thing I write there comes a style which I find
natural for that particular thing, and this tendency
I never resist. I am heartily pleased at the way
William likes my article, and scarcely less so at the
genuine attention and interest he gives to the whole
question. And dear old K.'s opinion was always
one of the first I looked for. Fan must tell me
herself how she likes what I have said, and how far
she is interested in the whole discussion.
The culprits in front of me two Hertford
labourers and a st'raw plaiter (a girl) are such
specimens of barbarism to look at as you seldom
saw, the girl more particularly. The state of the
peasantry in these metropolitan counties is lament-
able. I am ever, my dearest mother, your most
affectionate son, M. A.
To his Wife.
IN COURT, CHELMSFORD,
March 12, 6 P.M., 1862.
There are really twenty-three causes, and we have
gone very slowly to-day, so there is no chance of
our getting home to-morrow ; but I still hope we
may get home on Friday, though the Judge would
wring his hands if he heard me say so. But there
is no doubt the business here is very heavy indeed
this time, far heavier than I have ever known it.
I don't see how I am to get my lecture done by
TO HIS MOTHER. 189
Saturday week, I have had so much abstracting to
do, and the interruptions are so many.
I am delighted to find Walpole's Resolutions l so
good and firm as they are. I feared they would
have been all shilly-shally. These Resolutions
Lowe cannot possibly accept, or, if he does, he can-
not possibly make the world believe that he is not
giving up his Code by doing so. I am very much
relieved, and the members of Parliament I see on
circuit are all full of the absurdity of " individual
examinations.' 7 I have written to Shuttleworth
to tell him what I think of things. It is true the
Bishop of Oxford made a dreadful mistake by talk-
ing of his readiness to let the Education grant reach
2,500,000 ; that frightened the House of Commons,
which thinks the grant formidable already.
To his Mother.
IN COURT, MAIDSTONE,
March 19, 1862.
MY DEAREST MOTHER Your letter to-day was
one of your very pleasantest. Nothing I should
like better than to be with you just now at Fox
How and to correct my notion of your spring. I
think of the grass as keeping its sere, wintry, frost-
bitten look up to May, and if you have really the
tender green which is brightening all the orchard
closes of this pretty county, I should like to be
there to see it. This is a beautiful place ; ranges of
hill, and infinite gradations of distance, with wood
and spires, whichever way you look. The Medway
1 Condemning the Revised Code.
190 TO HIS MOTHER.
is coming down all yellow and turbid after the
great rains of Sunday and Monday, and the mead-
ows all about the river are flooded. But the rains
have fairly brought in the spring, and the lilacs
are actually in leaf. We shall have finished on
this side (the criminal) to-morrow, but we shall
have to stop and help Erie, and shall hardly get
back to London before Tuesday. Meanwhile I
hear from Fanny Lucy that twenty copies of my
Fraser article, reprinted in the form of a pamphlet,
have come to Chester Square, and that is a sign
that it is in the hands of Members. I am going to
send a copy with a note to Lord Lansdowne, and
shall be very curious to see what he says to it. If
I possibly can I will keep a copy for you, but as
you have it already in Fraser it does not so much
matter. The Times article to-day looks as if they
did not feel confident, but it looks more and more as
if it would be a party division, and then the num-
ber of Liberals staunch enough in the cause, or
knowing enough about it to vote, as William Forster
will, with Walpole, will be very small. Enough,
however, I cannot help thinking, to carry the reso-
lutions. I hope William Forster will speak, and
think he may have another decided success if he
does. He is thoroughly in earnest, and seizes the
real point of error and false statesmanship in the
Code, which so few outsiders have knowledge
enough, or, in default of knowledge, penetration
enough, to be able to seize.
Fan had mentioned the Scripture quotations. At
a time when religion penetrated society much more
TO HIS WIFE. 191
than it does now and in the seventeenth century
they were very common, and, if they are used seri-
ously, I see no objection to them. Burke used
them, even in his time. The Bible is the only book
well enough known to quote as the Greeks quoted
Homer, sure that the quotation would go home to
every reader, and it is quite astonishing how a
Bible sentence clinches and sums up an argument.
" Where the State's treasure is bestowed, " etc., for
example, saved me at least half a column of disqui-
sition. The Methodists do not' mind it the least ;
they like it, and this is much in its favour. Did I
tell you that Scott, the head of the Wesleyans, is en-
chanted with the article, and has taken a number
of copies of the reprint for circulation ?
I hope the Homer will be found readable. Per-
haps there is some little doubt about the motto 1 to
that, but I put it in the Vulgate Latin, as I always
do when I am not earnestly serious. Tennyson's
devoted adherents will be very angry with me, but
their ridiculous elevation of him above Wordsworth
was one of the things which determined me to say
what I did. My love to dear Fan. Your ever affec-
tionate M. A.
To his Wife.
MAIDSTONE, March 21, 1862.
Your papa says it is quite impossible for him to
go before to-morrow night if Erie wants him, as
the business would not be got through if he did.
But he very kindly tells me that I may go up to-
morrow, and I certainly shall, though I do not
1 " Multi, qui persequuntur me, et tribulaut me : a testimoniis
pon declinavi,"
192 TO HIS MOTHER.
quite know by what train, in time for dinner at
the Forsters', however. But your papa is getting
on so well that I think he will finish and come up
himself, leaving Erie with only one cause to try,
which he will be able to finish on Monday morning,
if not on Saturday night. Your papa's trying causes
is a wonderful help, as he goes fast; indeed it is
quite beautiful to see him try a cause, he does it
so admirably, and I think every one appreciates
him. I have had five hours' work at my lecture
to-day, and am getting on well, but it will be hard for
me to keep my attention to it this next week, with
the Education debate going on. I shall try what
I can do, however, but I must manage to write a
letter to the Daily News to put some matters clear
and right about individual examination and about
night schools. I see the Tories keep quiet in the
House of Lords, letting one Ministerial peer speak
after the other, and leaving the Bishop of Oxford
to take care of himself. I think they are quite
right to wait for the issue in the House of Com-
mons on Walpole's Resolutions. I find every one
here against the Code, and you see how numerous
the petitions are. Still, everything depends on
whether it is made a really Government question
or no.
To his Mother.
IN COURT, CHELMSFORD,
March 24, 1862.
My DEAREST MOTHER This morning I have
your letter, which Flu forwarded to me from Lon-
don. We are getting on slowly here, having had
TO HIS MOTHER. 193
very heavy business, but I think we shall finish
this afternoon, and get back to London to a very
late dinner. I have a lump in my throat and a
good deal of flying headache, but I cannot at all
complain of my health so far this year ; it has been
very good, and every one tells me how well I am
looking. But the gray hairs on my head are be-
coming more and more numerous, and I sometimes
grow impatient of getting old amidst a press of
occupations and labour for which, after all, I was
not born. Even my lectures are not work that I
thoroughly like, and the work I do like is not very
compatible with any other. But we are not here
to have facilities found us for doing the work we
like, but to make them.
You must certainly come to us first, and about
the 7th of May will do very well. I think you will
be struck with the aspect of London at that time
the wealth and brilliancy of it is more remarkable
every year. The carriages, the riders, and the
walkers in Hyde Park, on a fine evening in May or
June, are alone worth coming to London to see.
And by the 7th of May I hope to be back from Ox-
ford, and to be settled in London for the summer.
I have just heard from Shuttle worth that my
paper is reprinted, and that he has sent me twenty
copies, and a copy to every member of each House
of Parliament. I am extremely well pleased with
Walpole's Eesolutions. The first affirms just the
principle I want to have distinctly affirmed " To
give rewards for proved good reading, writing, and
arithmetic is not the whole duty of the State towards
VOL. I. O
194 TO HIS WIFE.
popular education." It was reported by Lowe*s-
friends that Lowe had information of the purport of
these Resolutions, and that he was not dissatisfied
with them, and I was afraid they would be very trim-
ming and shilly-shally, so I am the more pleased
at finding them so firm and distinct. Lowe cannot
possibly accept them, or if he does^ every one will
see that he confesses himself beaten by accepting
them ; and if he opposes them, I think he will cer-
tainly be beaten. J see a great many members "of
Parliament and county gentlemen on circuit. I find
their impression of the offensiveness of the school-
masters is strong, their impression that too much
is taught, and foolishly taught, in schools for the
poor is strong ; but their impression of the absurdity
and probable expense of the individual examination
is strongest of all. And it was this examination,
on the basis of State-payments, that I have from
the first attacked. Your ever most affectionate
M. A.
To his Wife.
LEWES, Friday, March 28, 1862.
I am puzzled to know how Greg 1 got my pamphlet.
I never sent it him. I hope no one is sending it
about in my name. I have no doubt the more it
makes an impression the more incensed against me
will the chiefs of the office become. I think perhaps
the reason Lord Lansdowne does not answer my
note is that Lord Granville has spoken to him about
the matter, and he is puzzled what to say to me. I
don't think, however, they can eject me, though
1 W. K. Greg, author of The Enigmas of Life.
TO HIS WIFE. 195
they can, and perhaps will, make my place uncom-
fortable. If thrown on the world I daresay we
should be on our legs again before very long. Any
way, I think I owed as much as this to a cause in
which I have now a deep interest, and always shall
have, even if I cease to serve it officially.
I am bothered about my lecture, which is by no
means finished, and has then to be written out.
Probably I shall have to end by reading it from my
rough copy. I have a letter from Shuttleworth ur-
gently begging me to answer Temple in the Daily
News, but I think I have paid my contribution to
the cause, considering what I risk by appearing for
it, and I shall at any rate consider the matter well
before I do anything more. What do you think ?
To the Same.
EATON PLACE, Sunday, March 30, 1862.
At half-past twelve Dick and I started across the
Park for Montagu Street, getting there just as they
were going to dinner. They were delighted to see
us. William was there, and we had some most in-
teresting talk about this compromise, which you will
have been delighted with, but which still leaves a
great deal to be done. That it is as good as it is, is
in great measure due to William, his earnestness, his
thorough knowledge of the subject, and the courage
which his reputation for honesty gave to other Lib-
erals to follow him in opposing the Code. I shall
now get olf the task of answering Temple. I find
William thinks my letter in answer to Lord Over-
196 TO HIS MOTHER.
stone one of the most telling and useful strokes in
the whole contest. William, however, is of opinion
they cannot touch me, and would bring a storm on
their heads if they did.
I had a capital audience yesterday, and the
Vice-Chancellor. Edwin Palmer told me every one
thought my Last Words perfect in tone and con-
vincingness. Tell your sister I shall send her my
Last Words in a day or two.
To his Mother.
LONDON, April 14, 1862.
MY DEAREST MOTHER It was Saturday before
I had your letter. I cannot quite remember whether
I had written to you before receiving it, so I write
now, and will write again this week if I find from
your letter that I missed last week altogether. This
horrible wind always makes me bilious and savage.
People and things all look disfigured and hideous
under it. It is particularly trying to London. But
when you come to us I hope it will be over. I fully
expect it to last till the first week in May. Tell
dear old Edward that I have no doubt it is the
Plymouth air which affects his little boy, and that
he will be all right as soon as he gets acclimatised.
Twice I have been at Plymouth, and twice I have
been made feverish by the oppressiveness of its air,
and I have heard other people say the same thing ;
it enjoys one of the worst sanitary reputations of
any place in England. Tell Edward, too, that the
Bishop of London J is a member of the Athenaeum,
i Dr. Tait.
TO HIS MOTHER. 197
and that he could not have a better proposer ; he
should write to him at once. I will see to his in-
terests when the election comes on. I think he is
quite right not to lose this chance. Tell him also
that I think he is quite right that Longfellow's
hexameters generally "read themselves" easily
enough, and that it is to be over-critical to complain
of them in this respect ; still, I don't think they are
a good type of hexameter. But I think also that
my weak syllables to begin a line don't do. Tell
him, finally, that the last division of the Code will,
in my opinion, by no means do, and that the least
we will take as maintenance-grant is one-half the
whole grant. The idea of making the scholar's
examination, the measure of the State's aid to his
school I hold to be altogether false ; it should only
be the measure of a reward to that individual scholar.
It is now, however, hardly possible to get rid directly
of the prize-scheme element in the Code, worthless
as I think it is ; but for the grant which represents
the State's real debt to elementary education we can-
not accept a secondary character, it must be at least
equal to the other. I believe Shuttleworth and his
constituents would thoroughly endorse these views,
and that the whole Tory party will go for the half
grant (carrying their doctrinaires, like Stafford
Northcote, along with them); the sound Liberals
like Wm. Forster will join them, the Government
will be beaten, the Code will be dropped, and Lowe
will go out. This, at least, is what I now hope for.
He has declared that he has been humiliated enough,
and that he will not accept any further interference
198 TO HIS MOTHER.
with his Code, but give it up and go out, "and
others/' he says, " will go with me." Whether this
means Lingen or Lord Granville, or both, I don't
know. But I remain as still as a mouse to see how
things turn. It is just possible the cry for "re-
trenchment at all events " may carry Lowe's one-
third through, but I very much doubt it. I hear
Disraeli, Pakington, Henley, and Walpole are thor-
oughly staunch on the question, and I know Wm.
Forster thinks one-half is not too much.
Here is a long story about the Code, but just now
I am much interested in all this. I hope to see
Shuttleworth some time this week. We have fired
a circular at Lord Granville denying that the in-
spectors have "neglected the examination of the
lower classes in the three Us. and based their re-
ports on the examination of the highest class only,"
and I think it will embarrass him. It was not sent
to the Assistant Inspector, nor to the Scotch inspect-
ors, for the more you widen the circle of subscrib-
ers the more you increase the chance of refusals to
sign ; and the more refusals to sign you meet with,
the more your document is discredited. I must
carry this to the post myself. Your ever affec-
tionate, in the greatest haste, M. A.
To the Same.
CHESTER SQUARE,
Saturday, June 28, 1862.
MY DEAREST MOTHER Your letter, a truly de-
lightful one, shall not go without an answer this
week, although I am much pressed by my Latin
TO HIS MOTHER. 199
speech. I have not written a word of it, and it has
to be spoken on Wednesday. The subject is very
good the postponement of the Prince of Wales's
degree owing to his father's death, Lord Canning's
degree prevented by his death, and, finally, Lord
Palmerston receiving his degree. Such good mat-
ter as this will enable one to leap over all the tire-
some topics which generally have to be treated in a
Creweian, 1 and to go straight to what is interesting.
I hear, however, that there will be a great row ; both
the Vice-Chancellor and the Public Orator write me
this, so probably it does not matter much what I
say, as I shall not be heard. However, I cannot
compose without doing as well as I can, even if I
know the composition will never obtain publicity.
The Vice-Chancellor has asked me to dine with him
on Tuesday, and he has a great party afterwards.
This is almost official, and I do so little as an Ox-
ford Professor, that I do not like to decline; be-
sides, I shall probably meet Lord Palmerston at the
dinner. So we have got off a dinner-party we were
engaged to here, and Flu and I go down together
on Tuesday to the Hawkinses, who have very kindly
promised to take us in even at this eleventh hour.
Our dinner-party last night went off very well. I
think I told you the Lingens were coming. They
were both very amiable, and not the least allusion
was made to the Code. To-night we have Chief
Justice Erie, the Seniors, the Froudes, the Forsters,
Drummond Wolff, and Montagu Blackett. We
!The Creweian Oration at Oxford, delivered in alternate
years by the Professor of Poetry and the Public Orator.
200 TO HIS MOTHER.
went after our party last night to the Seniors, and
found Thackeray there, who was very amusing,
kissing his hand to Flu, and calling me a monster,
but adding that "he had told all to her father."
He asked us to dinner for to-morrow, Sunday, but
we are engaged to the Forsters. We also met the
Brookfields there, and we dine with them on Mon-
day. I do nothing except my inspection, eat and
drink much more than I wish to, and long for the
circuit to bring me a little country air and peace.
. . . On Wednesday we met the Grant Duffs. He
is a member of Parliament. 1 It appears they are
great likers of my poetry, and have long been so.
He interested me with an account of his efforts to
get Obermann, after reading my poem on the sub-
ject. The book is out of print. At last he saw a
copy in a circulating library at Geneva, and offered
five times the book's value if the library man would
let him have it, which he did. I was interested in
your extract from the Bishop of Calcutta's 2 letter,
but most of all by your account of the changes at
Eydal. What an improvement the lowering of that
grim wall will be ! You don't say anything about
Eowland ; we are quite serious in wishing to have
her, if she can possibly come. I am now going to
try and get stalls for Lord Dundreary for the week
after next. Kiss Fan for me. Your ever affec-
tionate M. A.
1 M. E. Grant Duff, M.P. for the Elgin Burghs, 1857-1881 ;
afterwards Governor of Madras.
2 Dr. Cotton.
TO HIS MOTHER. 201
To the Same.
DOVER, August 21, 1862.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I meant to have written
to you the day before your birthday, but yesterday
morning I was up at three, and was incessantly
travelling until four o'clock this morning ; so that
it is on your birthday itself I must send you my
love and earnest wishes for the continuance of a
life of which every year we live makes us more feel
the value. I went off on Sunday morning with
much hesitation. The weather was rainy and un-
settled, and I was ' not feeling very buoyant ; how-
ever, I went. I could not shake off the languor and
depression which my attack had left, and I know
nothing which gets rid of this so well as travelling.
I had a wet passage, but was not ill. I on Sunday
night slept at Ghent. Late on Monday night I got
to Viel Salm, and found the Henrards very glad to
see me. Early the next morning I was out, but the
river, which used to be so fresh and full in the wet
season of 1860, is now terribly empty, and on a
bright day like yesterday nothing was to be done.
For the river to change there needs a thorough
break in the steady fine weather there has been in
that part of Belgium for the last few weeks. For
this I could not wait, and at first I thought I would
go to Aix la Chapelle, where I want to see all that
has to do with Charlemagne ; I have never yet seen
the place thoroughly. At three o'clock yesterday
morning I was up, and at four was in the diligence,
having passed at Viel Salm a little more than
202 TO HIS MOTHER.
twenty-four hours. After a rather tiresome jour-
ney, in which there was much overcrowding but
great good-humour for in these remote parts
where there is but one public vehicle every one
thinks that all the world has a natural right to it,
and must not be left behind, even though there
may be no means of properly conveying him, I
got to Spa a little before ten, had a warm bath, and
breakfasted under the trees at the principal cafe
there. While I was breakfasting I determined not
to go touring about without dear Flu, who likes it
as much as I do, and as I could not get the fishing,
which by occupying my attention and keeping me
out all day does me more good than almost any-
thing, I determined to come straight home. So off
I set at twelve o'clock on one of the hottest days
we have had. By changing and rechanging car-
riages I got to Lille about eight o'clock, dined
there and came on by the eleven o'clock train to
Calais, crossing to England at two o'clock in the
morning on one of the stillest and most beautiful
seas I have ever seen. I got here about half-past
four, and by great good luck the master of the house
happened to be awake, and let me in on my very
first ring at the bell. The children have dined with
us, and have all drunk your health in champagne.
They enjoy this place more than I can say. Two
nights without sleep have made me so tired that I
must end this stupid letter and go to bed. Love to
all within reach, and believe me ever, my dearest
mother, your affectionate son, M. A.
TO HIS MOTHER. 203
To the Same.
2 CHESTER SQUARE, November 19, 1862.
MY DEAREST MOTHER If I am to keep my
promise and write by this post you must be con-
tent with a very hurried letter, for a quarter past
five has just struck, and at half-past they come for
the letters. I have been all day inspecting at
Westminster, having gone at ten, inspected a
school from ten to half-past twelve, from half-past
twelve to a quarter past one heard pupil teacher
read, from a quarter past one to two dined, or
rather lunched, with Scott, the Principal of the
Training School, and from two to a quarter past
four inspected another school. Then I got home,
and went out immediately to get my daily snuff
of air, foggy stuff as it is, and to try and get Once
a Week for Flu. I am just returned, and after this
is written I must report on a heavy school, which
will take me till dressing time. We dine in Eaton
Place, 1 where they have one or two people. We
shall be back here about a quarter past ten, then I
shall report on a light school, write two or three
letters, read about a hundred lines of the Odyssey
to keep myself from putrefaction, and go to bed
about twelve.
I saw Stanley for a few minutes in Oxford the
other day. Jowett was with him. There is a
move to turn the latter out of his Fellowship for
his heresies, and Stanley chooses this moment to
revive in Congregation the question of his salary. 2
I suspect it is Colenso's book which has reanimated
1 At Mr. Justice Wiglitman's. 2 As Professor of Greek.
204 TO HIS MOTHER.
the orthodox party against Jowett and the Essay-
ists. I think, apropos of Colenso, of doing what
will be rather an interesting thing I am going to
write an article called "The Bishop and the Phi-
losopher," contrasting Colenso and Co.'s jejune and
technical manner of dealing with Biblical contro-
versy with that of Spinoza in his famous treatise
on the Interpretation of Scripture, with a view of
showing how, the heresy on both sides being equal,
Spinoza broaches his in that edifying and pious
spirit by which alone the treatment of such matters
can be made fruitful, while Colenso and the Eng-
lish Essayists, from their narrowness and want of
power, more than from any other cause, do not. I
know Spinoza's works very well, and I shall be
glad of an opportunity of thus dealing with them ;
the article will be in Fraser or Macmillan I don't
know which. Meanwhile my Maurice de Guerin is
already in Froude's 1 hands. I think it will be
found interesting. Tell Jane she must read it.
There is Williamson, the policeman, come for the
letters and I must stop. All manner of love to all
at Warf eside. Your ever affectionate M. A.
To the Same.
EDUCATION DEPARTMENT, COUNCIL OFFICE,
DOWNING STREET, LONDON,
December 17, 1862.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I was in some doubts
whether I ought to write to you or Fan, but your
letter this morning decides me. Give Fan my best
1 Then editor of Fraser' s Magazine.
TO HIS MOTHER. 205
love, however, and tell her that I liked hearing
from her very much, and that I think at least once
a fortnight she might manage to write out of pure
charity without expecting more than a weekly
letter from an overworked man. They are getting
more and more troublesome, i.e. more rigidly me-
chanical, at the Council Office, in laying down
everything beforehand for the inspectors, and in
suffering no deviation from rules often made with-
out the least connaissance de cause; however, I go
on with the hope that better days will come, and
with the hope also of in some degree contributing
to their coming. Certainly, as much as we surpass
foreign nations in our Parliamentary proceedings
we fall below them in our Administrative proceed-
ings. But all this will not much interest you.
Meanwhile, I find the increasing routine of the
office work a good balance to my own increasing
literary work, but unless I throw myself into the
latter, the irrationality of the former would worry
me to death.
I sent you Masson's l note, which I found when I
got home late last night. You may burn it when
you have read it. It is very satisfactory, for I don't
imagine he would speak so strongly of anything he
thought would not go down with the public, and
how far anything of mine will go down with this
monster I myself never feel sure beforehand. I
was pleased with this performance on Colenso and
Spinoza, 2 however, and glad of the opportunity
1 David Masson, editor of Macniillan's Magazine.
2 " The Bishop and the Philosopher." Macmillan's Magazine,
January 1863.
206 TO HIS MOTHER.
of saying what I had to say. I have not read
Vaughan's sermons, 1 nor do I think it possible for a
clergyman to treat these matters satisfactorily. In
papa's time it was ; but it is so, it seems to me, no
longer ; he is the last free speaker of the Church of
England clergy who speaks without being shackled,
and without being obviously aware that he is so, and
that he is in a false position in consequence ; and
the moment a writer feels this his power is gone.
I may add, that if a clergyman does not feel this
now, he ought to feel it. The best of them (Jowett,
for example) obviously do feel it, and I am quite
sure papa would have felt it had he been living
now, and thirty years younger. Not that he would
have been less a Christian, or less zealous for a
national Church, but his attention would have been
painfully awake to x the truth that to profess to see
Christianity through the spectacles of a number of
second or third-rate men who lived in Queen Eliza-
beth's time (and this is what office-holders under
the thirty-nine articles do) men whose works one
never dreams of reading for the purpose of enlight-
ening and edifying oneself is an intolerable ab-
surdity, and that it is time to put the formularies
of the Church of England on a solider basis. Or a
clergyman may abstain from dealing with specula-
tive matters at all : he may confine himself to such
matters as Stanley does, or to pure edification, and
then, too, he is in a sound position. But the
moment he begins to write for or against Colenso
1 The Book and the Life, four sermons on Inspiration, by
C. J. Vaughan, D.D.
TO HIS MOTHER. 207
he is inevitably in a false position. I have left
myself no room to tell you of Miss Leech's l party
last night, to which Lucy went in a black velvet
frock, given her by her Aunt Georgina, with a
broad lace tucker and a blue velvet band round her
hair. She and Dicky looked a couple of beauties.
Has Flu told you how great a favourite Dicky is
with Miss Leech. She says she thinks him abso-
lutely the most lovely boy she has ever had in her
school. We are all well in health again. Love to
all your party at Fox How. Your ever affectionate
M. A.
To the Same.
2 CHESTER SQUARE, January 7, 1863.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I did not at all like the
delay in getting an improved account of you, and
am sincerely rejoiced to hear at last that you are
really better. Influenzas are obstinate things, and
have generally enough force with them to pull one
down considerably. You seem to have had a sick
as well as a wet Christmas at Fox How still, I
would have given a good deal to be with you.
I am now at the work I dislike most in the world
looking over and marking examination papers.
I was stopped last week by my eyes, and the last
year or two these sixty papers a day of close hand-
writing to read have, I am sorry to say, much tried
my eyes for the time. They soon recover, how-
ever, and no reading ever seems to hurt them. At
1 Two sisters of John Leech, the artist, kept a school for little
boys in -Lower Belgrave Street.
208 TO HIS MOTHER.
present I can do nothing in the day after my papers
are done but write the indispensable letters for that
day's post. I have had several to write about this
Spinoza article, as you may imagine. You say,
very justly, that one's aim in speaking about such
a man must be rather to modify opinion about him
than to give it a decisive turn in his favour; in-
deed, the latter I have no wish to do, so far as his
doctrines are concerned, for, so far as I can under-
stand them, they are not mine. But what the
English public cannot understand is that a man
is a just and fruitful object of contemplation much
more by virtue of what spirit he is of than by
virtue of what system of doctrine he elaborates.
It is difficult to make out exactly at what Maurice
is driving 1 ; perhaps he is always a little dim in
his own mind as to what precisely he is driving at.
They all give unfair turns to views they do not
like, however. As the Spectator 2 gives to the un-
doubted truth that religious matters should not be
discussed before the religious world unless edify-
ingly, the turn that it is proposed to throw a false re-
ligion as a sop to the multitude, so Maurice gives to
the undoubted truth that the prophets did not arrive
at their conclusions by a process of intellectual
conception, the turn that they are represented to
have "told shocking stories." I shall wait as long
as I can before writing in the Times, that as many
1 "Spinoza and Professor Arnold," by the Eev. F. D. Mau-
rice. The Spectator, January 3, 1863.
2 "Mr. Matthew Arnold on the Aristocratic Creed." The
Spectator, December 27, 1862.
TO HIS MOTHER. 209
adversaries as possible may show me their hand.
I shall probably write something for Macmillan,
to remove the misrepresentation of my doctrine
about edifying the many. The article attracts
much notice here, particularly among the clergy.
I long ago made up my mind that if one had to
enounce views not current and popular it was indis-
pensable to enounce them in at once the clearest
and the most unflinching style possible. I am very
glad you like Guerin ; he and" his letters are really
charming. I mean to do his sister also when I can
find time. I send a note (which may burn), because
it is to the honour of human nature that a poor
author should ask for a book in lieu of money.
I have sent the poor man both my subscription and
the Lectures. Your ever most affectionate
M. A.
To the Same.
THE ATHEN^UM, January 27, 1863.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I me'ant to have writ-
ten to you and to Sainte Beuve, but the fire was
warm and the article on Polygnotus (the Greek
painter) I was reading iri the Revue des deux Mondes
was somewhat empty, the air outside had been very
cold, the school I had been inspecting large, and
the luncheon I had been eating more abundant than
usual j above all, for the two last nights I have not
been in bed till after one o'clock. Accordingly, I
fell asleep, and now I have only time to write one
letter, which shall be to you, then I must go home
and dress to dine out.
VOL. I. P
210 TO HIS MOTHER.
I have had a long and charming letter from
Sainte Beuve about my article on Guerin. I
would send it, but it is written in a hand which I
have not made out without the greatest difficulty,
and which I doubt if you and Fan could make out
at all. For the same reason I have not sent you
two letters from M. de Circourt about my Colenso
article; it is a regular task to decipher them.
When you come to London I will read them to
you. I have been lunching to-day with Lady de
Rothschild and her daughter, she having written
me word that they were up for a few hours. I
meant to have got her to mention Edward to her
sister-in-law, Baroness Lionel, who is now at Tor-
quay, but I find the Lionel Rothschilds leave Tor-
quay to-morrow. At luncheon was Miss Copley, 1
Lord Lyndhurst's daughter, a very good-looking
and livety girl, a favourite of Lowe, who has been
just staying at Mentmore with the Meyer Roths-
childs, and whom I should have met if I had gone
to Aston Clinton as I was asked, for he dined there,
and I was asked to go over and dine with the Aston
Clinton party at Mentmore. I should also have
met Delane (of the Times), Charles Villiers (the
head of the Poor Law Board), and Disraeli. Lowe
is extremely clever in conversation, though not
very amiable. Lady de Rothschild says he con-
fesses he has got into a great mess with the Code,
and attributes it all to his over great anxiety to
conciliate everybody. I am asked to go to Aston
Clinton this week, from Friday to Monday, but
1 Afterwards Lady Du Cane.
TO MISS ARNOLD. 211
cannot. They are all great favourites of mine,
however, and Lady de Rothschild is one of my
best readers. She is now reading Arthur Stan-
ley's book on the Jewish Church, and I have
promised to bring him to see her. Your ever
affectionate M. A.
To Miss Arnold.
(February 3, 1863.)
MY DEAREST FAN I was very glad to have your
note, and to hear that you and dearest mamma had
liked my article. 1 My conscience a little smote me
with having been, in my first article, too purely
negative and intellectual on such a subject. Now
I have done what I wished, and no amount of noise
or faultfinding will induce me to add another word.
It is so hard as to be almost impossible to dis-
criminate between the intellectual and religious
life in words that shall be entirely satisfactory,
but if you will consider the difference between
reading the last chapters of St. Matthew for the
sake simply of what is recorded there, and reading
them for the sake of making up one's mind how
those chapters are likely to have come together by
the process which Jowett and others say is the
process by which the Gospels were formed, you
will have a notion of what I mean. Protestantism
has always imagined that it consisted more in
intellectualism than, as vital religion, it ever really
has consisted.
i"Dr. Stanley's Lectures on the Jewish Church." Mac-
?nillan's Magazine, February 1863.
212 TO HIS MOTHER.
I have found many serious people, Dissenters
and churchmen, who have understood the drift of
my first article and been greatly pleased with it.
The newspapers, which exist for the many, must
resent a supposed insult to the many.
To his Mother.
CHESTER SQUARE, February 4, 1863.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I send you two more
notes, both of them very satisfactory. You need
not return either. Grove is the Secretary at the
Crystal Palace, and a contributor to the Dictionary
of the Bible. The weekly newspapers will, I sup-
pose, give tongue again next Saturday, but I think
they will not quite know what to make of this last
position of mine. But, whatever they make of it,
I shall say no more. I hope before I come to Fox
How (if I come there) this summer, to have printed
six articles one on Spinoza in the Times, one on
Dante and one on the Emperor Marcus Aurelius in
Fraser, one on A French Eton and one on Academies
(like the French Institute) in Macmillan, and one
on Eugenie de Guerin in the Cornhill. Perhaps I
may add to these one on Joubert, an exquisite
French critic, a friend of Chateaubriand. Besides
all this I must write two lectures for Oxford, and
I hope to compose one or two short poems besides.
And then there is inspecting. So I have plenty to
do. After the summer I mean to lie fallow again
for some time, or to busy myself with poetry only.
My great advantage is that every one of the sub-
TO HIS MOTHER. 213
jects I propose to treat is one that I have long
reached in my mind, read and thought much about,
and been often tempted to write of. The horrible
thing must be to have to look about for subjects,
and when this has to be done week after week, it
must be enough to drive one mad.
In the January number of the North American
Review there is an article on poetry which begins
with two pages about me, which I have promised
to copy out for Flu, and which you and Fan will
like to see. There is more about me in the article,
and several quotations from things of mine not
often quoted which I think among my best, but all
that is worth taking the pains to copy out is con-
tained in the first two pages. A passage of Pindar
is applied to dear papa and me in a way that gives
me great pleasure. 1 I will also send you Sainte
Beuve's letter when I can lay my hand upon it.
This last you must be careful to return. Your
ever affectionate M. A.
i " Matthew Arnold had the happy fortune to have the great
and good Thomas Arnold of Rugby School for his father ; and,
as we gather his character from his published works, he is not
unworthy of parentage so noble. In connexion with the schol-
arly, consecrated, generous, manly spirit expressed in the writ-
ings of both, we think of the ode in which Pindar, celebrating
the glory of Hippocleas, victor at the Pythian games, praises
him because he has emulated his deceased father, Phricias, who
before him was a conqueror in the Olympic stadium."- " The
Origin and Uses of Poetry." North American Review, January
1863.
214 TO HIS MOTHER.
To the Same.
HERTFORD, March 5, 1863.
MY DEAREST MOTHER My date will tell you
that I am on circuit, but I received your letter just
before I left town on Tuesday morning. On Tues-
day night I slept at Royston, at an old place called
the Priory, inhabited by a banker, who is the chief
manager of the school. I inspected a school at
Royston, and another at Baldock, and came on here
in time for dinner last night. This place is a great
favourite of mine. We are lodged in the castle, a
large old house placed in a square green surrounded
by old mounds and walls, part of which are Roman,
and with a clear river, the Lea, running through it
all. The country round is full of beautiful seats,
Hertford being in the prettiest part of the prettiest
county near London. The year is so forward that
the violets, I hear, are out; a bunch was brought
to me yesterday at Royston which had been gath-
ered in the lanes, and as the woodlands hereabouts
are full of wild flowers, I have hopes of finding
even white violets if I have time to go and look for
them. But I have presently to go to Court and
swear the Grand Jury ; then I have to write a testi-
monial for Walrond, who is standing for the Pro-
fessorship of Latin at Glasgow; then I have to
write to M. de Circourt at Paris ; then I have to get
ready an old lecture, 1 which I am going to give
to Froude for Fraser; then I have to go off to
Hoddesdon, three or four miles from here on the
1 " Dante and Beatrice." Fraser's Magazine, May 1863.
TO HIS MOTHER. 215
railroad, to inspect a school, and shall get back
only just in time to sit half an hour in Court with
the Judge before dressing for dinner to receive the
magistrates. To-morrow I shall return to London,
whether the Judge has finished here or not, but in
the morning before I start I shall try hard to get
into the copses towards Panshanger along the side
of the river Mimram.
Dearest K. dines with us in Chester Square
to-morrow, and from her I shall hear all about
Susy. My ticket will just do for that dear old
girl, and Miss Nicholls will have the Judge's ticket
and go with her. I shall escort and deposit them,
but then, if the streets are passable, I shall get
away and join Flu at 50 Pall Mall, as I want to see
how the children like the whole thing. I wish
dear Fan could be in London, as she would like
the sight. 1 For my part I should be glad to be
out of it. The really fine sight will be that which
only the people in the procession will have the
line of gaily-dressed people all along the decorated
streets. This will be a beautiful sight, I should
think, but in the beauty of an English procession
in itself I have no belief. Your ever affectionate
M. A.
To the Same.
CHELMSFORD, March 13, 1863.
MY DEAREST MOTHER Though late, I write at
last. I had your letter on Tuesday morning, but
to answer it on that day was impossible. On
1 The entry of Princess Alexandra of Denmark into London.
216 TO HIS MOTHER.
Wednesday I had the journey here, a school to
inspect, and the magistrates to entertain at dinner,
besides making abstracts of a dozen records for the
Nisi Prius Court here. Yesterday I had a school
to inspect ten miles beyond Colchester, from which
I got back just in time for the bar dinner, and only
just. To-day I have had a light school here, and
hoped to get back to London, but the Judge is
moving so slowly with his causes that I am much
afraid we shall be kept over to-night. I am re-
joiced the rejoicings are over. London was not
liveable-in from the crowds in the streets all day
and all night. We saw the entry very well from
Cumin's rooms in Pall Mall. When we got there
I found there was an attic above with a balcony,
which was at our disposal, so I went back and
fetched Mrs. Tuffin and Nelly, and established
them there. Nelly passed some three hours on
the balcony running backwards and forwards, pick-
ing out the mortar from between the stones, and
making herself as black as ink. The show in the
street sometimes seemed to amuse her for a minute
or two, but she never attended to it long. On
Tuesday night we started at seven, with the Fors-
ters and Croppers, in a van. The proper person
to have directed the route was Fanny Lucy, as she
is a born cockney, and understands London sight-
seeing thoroughly; however, it was William's van,
and he and Jane had their own notions about the
route, with which, of course, one did not like to
interfere ; the result was that they saw very little,
and that little after immense delays. We got
TO HIS MOTHER.
217
jammed at Hyde Park Corner within ten minutes
of our starting. I had resigned myself to my
fate with a silent shudder, when happily Dicky
announced that he was very tired and that he
wanted to go to bed. I jumped out of the van,
had Dicky handed to me, and soon found myself
on the pavement. There Dicky began to dance
about and to beg me to walk in the streets with
him to see the illuminations. This we did, and
were home a little after ten, having seen Piccadilly,
St. James's Street, Pall Mall, Cockspur Street,
and Westminster all the best of the illumina-
tions. In St. James's Street the crowd was very
great, but it was very good-humoured, and every
one was very kind to Dicky. In the City they
seem to have had a shocking business. I hope
there may be no more London rejoicings in my
time, but, if there are, Fanny Lucy has deter-
mined to go on foot to see the illuminations.
Budge has returned to Laleham rather disconso-
lately, but he seems to be doing well there, and is
much improved in looks since he went. I send you
a very interesting letter from the friend of Guerin
who edited his Remains. The only surviving
sister, Marie de Guerin, has sent me, through him,
her sister Eugenie's volume. Marie de Guerin is,
I am told, a nun at Toulouse. Their having found
out the article in Fraser shows more attention to
what is passing in English literature than I had
believed the French paid; but they have what
Guizot calls the " amour des choses de 1'esprit " so
strong that they manage not to miss anything
218 TOfflS MOTHER.
capable of interesting them when the subject is
anything that is marquant in their literature.
Your ever affectionate M. A.
To the Same.
RICHMOND, April 8, 1863.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I rejoined the Judge at
Kingston yesterday, and to-day, a little after three,
we finished, and the Judge and I drove over here.
Flu will think, when I do not return to dinner,
that we are kept another day at Kingston, and will
be agreeably surprised when I appear between ten
and eleven to-night, bringing Budge with me, who
came here yesterday, and slept here last night.
Lady Wightman has a house on the hill for six
weeks. It has been wet all the morning, and is
still showery, but the air has been softened, and
everything has taken a step. The thorns and
chestnuts are in leaf, and all the other trees bud-
ding. I have had a delightful scamper through
the Park with Budge and little Mary Benson, tak-
ing them into the wildest parts, through great
jungles of dead fern, to the loveliest ponds, and
over the slopes where the great oaks are standing,
and the herds of deer lying under them. The
children were perfectly delighted with the deer,
having never seen deer close before, and Budge
was never tired of putting the herds up and seeing
them bound off.
TO HIS MOTHER. 219
To the Same.
Thursday, April 9, 1863.
I was interrupted by dinner. You ask about
Greg's article. 1 Greg's it certainly is. He sent
it to me. The direction was his handwriting and
the stamp was the Customs stamp. It is very
civil. You must have had an imperfect account
of it. Of course, it controverts my doctrine, but
without any vice at all. Greg's mistake lies in
representing to his imagination the existence of
a great body of people excluded from the conso-
lations of the Bible by the popular Protestant
doctrine of verbal inspiration. That is stuff. The
mass of people take from the Bible what suits
them, and quietly leave on one side all that does
not. He, like so many other people, does not
apprehend the vital distinction between religion
and criticism. But I have no space for all this.
Your ever affectionate M. A.
To the Same.
RAMSGATE, April 17, 1863.
MY DEAREST MOTHER No doubt your letter is
waiting for me in Chester Square, but if I do not
write till I have read it, my letter will not reach
you on Sunday ; so I write from this place, which
we leave to-morrow to return to Chester Square.
We came down on Monday, bringing with us Dicky
and Lucy. We are staying at the Koyal Hotel,
i" Truth versus Edification," Westminster Review, April
1863.
220 TO HIS MOTHER.
which, as inns go, is not a bad one ; at any rate, it
is the best here, and looks full on the harbour and
pier, the latter having its entrance within a stone's
throw of the inn door. We have had east winds,
and the cliffs are chalk cliffs, and Ramsgate is in
the Isle of Thanet, and to the great charm of
Nature the sense of her inexhaustible variety,
her infinity east wind, chalk cliffs, and Thanet
are all unfavourable. East wind makes the world
look as if you saw it all before you bare and sharp,
cold and bright. Chalk cliffs add to this impres-
sion, with their pettiness and clearness, and Thanet,
which has no trees and a wonderfully bright atmos-
phere, adds to it further. The charm and mystery
of a broken, wooded, dark-stoned landscape under
a south-west wind one can never get a sense of here.
Still there is the sea, and that is something even
for me; for the children it is everything. You
never saw such enjoyment. Out the moment we
arrived on Monday with pails and spades at work
on the sand; and out all day and every day since,
digging sand, picking up shells, gathering daisies
(they are cockneys enough to be delighted with
even daisies) in the fields at the top of the cliff,
riding on donkeys, or going in a boat in the har-
bour and just outside. Then there is the pier to
lounge about, and the shipping to watch. It has
done them both great good. They are a very
happy couple together, and Lucy's appetite has
doubled. I have been out a great deal inspecting,
but yesterday we drove to Broadstairs together,
and to-day we have been to Margate together,
TO HIS MOTHER.
221
walked on the pier and gone on the walks at the
top of the cliff. Unless the bill quite ruins us, I
shall think it was well worth while to bring them.
Flu has been delighted to have them. The sea
does not suit either her or me so well as it suits
the children, however; and we have both been
rather bilious, and I have had some return- of
toothache. I am in fair work, however. I have
done my Spinoza article for the Times (if the
Times will but print it, now that the Session is
going on), and I am half through Eugenie de
Guerin, the book, not my article on her. After
all they say about her I have been a little disap-
pointed. I mean she is not comparable for genius,
or at least for expression and poetical power, to
her brother. My love to Fan. I must dress for
dinner. Your ever affectionate M. A.
To the Same.
2 CHESTER SQUARE, April 25, 1863.
MY DEABEST MOTHER I don't know whether I
shall have time to finish this before Flu appears,
but I hope so, for I do not like you to pass a week
without a letter. I came back yesterday from
Oxford. Stanley took advantage of my visit to
ask some of the Puseyite party whom he wanted
to ask, but could hardly ask without the excuse of
a stranger to meet; we had a very pleasant and
successful party of this kind. Henry Bunsen was
staying with Stanley, and him I always like. The
weather was fine but Avith a detestable cold wind,
so that a new poem about the Cumner hillside, and
222 TO HIS MOTHER.
Clough in connexion with it, which I meant to
have begun at Oxford this week, I could not begin.
I have been accumulating stores for it, however.
I enjoyed the country in spite of the wind, and
send Fan a "Turk's Cap," which I think does not
grow at the lakes. There are white and purple,
and in places they cover the meadows by the
Thames. I have read through Eugenie de Guerin,
and must now fall to work and make my article
upon her this next week. It will not be such a
labour of love as I imagined beforehand it would
be, though she is a truly remarkable person. I
have also engaged to give Macmillan an article on
the French Lycees for their June number. So I
have my hands pretty well full. Your ever affec-
tionate M. A.
To the Same. May9<1S63 .
MY DEAREST MOTHER The week shall not end
without my writing, so at the close of a paragraph
I have shut up my Eugenie de Guerin, and betaken
myself to this sheet of note-paper. I had promised
the article for to-day, but I have got an extension
of time till Monday. I think the article will be in-
teresting, but the sister is not so good a subject as
the brother.
Flu and I went to Oxford on Tuesday. I left her
at Wallingford Road Station, and walked through
the meadows by the Thames, in a violent shower of
rain (the only one we have had for weeks and weeks)
to Benson. There I inspected a school, went back
to Wallingford Road, got to Oxford just in time to
TO HIS MOTHER. 223
dress for dinner at Arthur Stanley's. There was
a very grand party: Lady Westmorland and her
daughter Lady Rose Fane, Lady Hobart, and all
the young lords at Christ Church. Mrs. Charles
Buxton was staying there, and I sat by her. Stan-
ley is the pleasantest host possible ; he takes such
pains to make everybody pleased, and to introduce
them to the people they will like to know. Flu and
I were staying at the Listers, but my day was this :
I got up at six, had a light breakfast alone, started
by a train at 7.30, inspected a school, got back about
two, worked in the Taylor Library till five, when
the Library closes, then went out to make calls and
do business in Oxford, and got home to dress for
dinner. The Listers are very hospitable, and I hate
staying at an inn, but I could hardly have used their
house in this way unless I had had Flu with me, to
give them a little more of her company than I gave
them of mine. Yesterday I went to Chipping Nor-
ton, while Flu came up here, and I followed by a
train at half-past three in the afternoon, arriving in
Chester Square at seven to dress, and then having
to be off to dine with the Lingens the other side of
London at eight. To-day I have been here since
about eleven, working. All this is a busy life, but
I am very well, and enjoy it. Inspecting is a little
too much as the business half of one's life in con-
tradistinction to the inward and spiritual half of it,
or I should be quite satisfied. To-night we dine
with the Forsters. He seems better, but not well,
and, I think, ought to get out of town for a few
days. Your ever affectionate M. A.
224 TO HIS MOTHER.
To M. E. Grant Duff, M.P.
2 CHESTER SQUARE, May 14, 1863.
MY DEAR MR. GRANT DUFF Many thanks
both to you and to your friend. I have no doubt
there are many things in his edition of Heine which
I have not read, but, as Napoleon said, "II faut
savoir se borner." I am even going, for the sake of
a restricted cadre, to make my text the Romancero
only, illustrating my remarks upon it by some quo-
tations from the other works, but of these quota-
tions I have more than I can use already. So with
many thanks I will decline your offer. My object
is not so much to give a literary history of Heine's
works, as to mark his place in "modern European
letters, and the Special tendency and significance
of what he did.
I am glad Mrs. Grant Duff is better, and we shall
certainly try and come to her on Saturday night.
Believe me, ever sincerely yours,
MATTHEW ARNOLD.
To his Mother.
THE ATHEN^UM, May 19, 1863.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I don't think this will
go to-night, but I will write it, to make sure of its
reaching you before you leave Fox How. . . .
I shall see dear old Budge, who perhaps will come
home on Saturday to stay Sunday. I think I told
you he had, at my instigation, buckled to and got a
Bene for his Syntax, in which, as it was quite new
to him, he had been finding great difficulty. The
TO HIS MOTHER. 225
merit of Budge is, though, he is an idle dog, that he
can, and will, answer to a call. He says he likes
school much better now, and that he is getting 011
very well. Matt Buckland told me he was a gen-
eral favourite from his good temper; pleasantness I
should call what he has, rather than good temper.
Nelly is getting the most jolly, noisy, boyish, mis-
chievous duck in the world; and her tongue is
exceedingly pretty.
I have been bothered composing a letter to Sainte
Beuve, who has sent me the new edition of his poems.
Every one is more sensitive about his poems than
about his other works, and it is not on Sainte
Beuve's poems that his fame will rest ; indeed, ex-
cept in songs, I do not see that French verse can be
truly satisfactory. I myself think even Moliere's
verse plays inferior to his prose ones. However,
Sainte Beuve's poems have all his talent in them, al-
though they have not exactly the true charm of
poetry ; but it was difficult to say this in a way he
would like. I have at last written and sent to him
a letter with which I am tolerably well satisfied, but
it has given me a great deal of trouble. I saw the
Guardian ; it is a paper I like, and generally read.
It is, however, getting alienated from me, and will
get yet more so. To an eminently decorous clerical
journal my tendency to say exactly what I think
about things and people is thoroughly distasteful and
disquieting. However, one cannot change English
ideas so much as, if I live, I hope to change them,
without saying imperturbably what one thinks and
making a good many people uncomfortable. The
VOL. I. Q
226 TO HIS MOTHER.
great thing is to speak without a particle of vice,
malice, or rancour. Your ever affectionate
M. A.
To the Same.
THE ATHENAEUM, June 16, 1863.
MY DEAREST MOTHER A week missed in my
correspondence with you ! but that dear, good little
Flu has more than supplied my place. I have been
very busy indeed with my lecture on Heine, which
much interested me. I have just been reading a
foreign review article on the University of Oxford,
and the writer, pointing out how the mere school-
boy instruction of the colleges has superseded the
University instruction, says : " Le vide se fait au-
tour des chaires de 1'Universite : les hautes etudes
ont des representants que personne n'ecoute et ne
comprend; Petudiant reste toujours ecolier." I
have almost always a very fair attendance ; to be
sure, it is chiefly composed of ladies, but the above
is so far true that I am obliged always to think, in
composing my lectures, of the public who will read
me, not of the dead bones who will hear me, or my
spirit would fail. Tell Edward that there was, nev-
ertheless, one thing which even a wooden Oxford
audience gave way to Heine's wit. I gave them
about two pages of specimens of it, and they posi-
tively laughed aloud. I have had two applications
for the lecture from magazines, but I shall print it,
if I can. in the Cornhill, because it both pays best
and has much the largest circle of readers. Eu-
genie de Guerin seems to be much liked, but I
TO HIS MOTHER. 227
don't think anybody's pleasure in it gives me so
much pleasure as dear old Tom's. 1
Did Flu tell you that I had a very civil note
from the Senior Proctor offering me an invitation
for her as well as myself to the banquet to be
given to the Prince and Princess by the Univer-
sity of All Souls ? My own single desire is to
escape the whole thing, but if that old duck
Edward had gone up to All Souls I don't think
I should have been able to resist. They will have
bad weather, I am afraid, however. It is now
pouring. How you must be catching it in Corn-
wall ! and the one consolation which I should have
that it is good for fishing does not affect you.
Still, with or without fishing, how I should like to
be down with you in Cornwall !
Flu and I lunched with Lady de Rothschild on
Sunday, and she gave us a splendid box of bon-
bons for the children. Tell little Edward the box
was like a trunk, and you take out. tray after tray,
and in each tray there is a layer of a different sort
of bon-bon. Kiss that dear little man for me, and
for Dicky also.
On Sunday night I dined with Monckton Milnes,
and met all the advanced liberals in religion and
politics, and a Cingalese in full costume ; so that,
having lunched with the Eothschilds, I seemed to
be passing my day among Jews, Turks, infidels,
and heretics. But the philosophers were fearful!
G. Lewes, Herbert Spencer, a sort of pseudo-Shelley
1 His brother, Thomas Arnold, afterwards Fellow of the Royal
University of Ireland.
228 TO HIS MOTHER.
called Swinburne, and so on. Froude, however, was
there, and Browning, and Ruskin ; the latter and I
had some talk, but I should never like him. P
was there, too, tell Edward, screaming away like
a mill-wheel in full revolution. I have just met
Eber 1 here, and asked him to dinner, but it is
doubtful whether he will be able to come. Would
Susy think it worth while to come up from Liverpool
to see him once more before he dies ? My love to
Fan and Edward. Your ever affectionate M. A.
To the Same.
THE ATHEN^UM, July 1, 1863.
MY DEAREST MOTHER Many thanks for your
letter, and thank dear old Edward for his, and for
the hand-bill, which I shall send to one of my
Wesleyan friends, who is a little sore about my
"attack on Methodism." I send Edward a slip
cut out of the Proceedings, from which he will
see the exact terms of Cecil's 2 motion. Cecil has
very strong ground, from the terms of the instruc-
tions under which Watkins and all the full inspect-
ors were appointed ; these instructions say expressly
that we are to report for the information of Parlia-
ment, to enable the two Houses to determine what
mode of distributing the Parliamentary grant will
be most advantageous to the country. Lowe's as-
sertion in his speech the other day that the Inspect-
1 General Eber, a Hungarian refugee, who taught languages.
2 Lord Robert Cecil, M.P., afterwards Lord Salisbury, moved
a Resolution condemning Mr. Lowe for "mutilating" the Re-
ports of Inspectors of Schools.
TO HIS WIFE. 229
ors "report to the Council Office, and the Council
Office, if it thinks fit, prints their reports as an
appendix to its own report," is at direct variance
with the language of the instructions. Still it is
difficult to foretell how the division will go, as, of
course, Lowe will get a strong whip made for him ;
but the debate will probably in any case do good.
I cannot go to the House, as I dine out on Friday
night, but I am better pleased not to be seen in
the matter.
The Forsters dine with us to-night, but Tom
dines with the Lingens. William seems to have
made a good speech, and Bright's mention of his
father must have very much gratified him. No pub-
lic man in this country will be damaged by having
even " fanaticism " in his hatred of slavery imputed
to him. Your ever affectionate M. A.
To his Wife.
CAMBRIDGE, July 26, 1863,
Sunday Evening.
It is a fine, warm day, and I have never seen
Cambridge look so beautiful. We dined in the hall
of Trinity at four o'clock (think of that !), and sat
in Combination Room till half-past six ; then Pol-
lock and I strolled through the fields to Gran-
chester, the only pretty walk about Cambridge.
The ground is broken, the Cam, really a pretty
stream, and tolerably clear, flows beside you ; the
woods of Trumpington Park and the pretty church
and cottages of Granchester close the horizon. I
should so like to have strolled about with you this
230 TO MRS. FORSTER.
lovely afternoon at the backs of the colleges and
heard your dear remarks. I have made up my
mind that I should like the post of Master of
Trinity. We strolled back from Granchester by
moonlight ; it made me melancholy to think how at
one time I was in the fields every summer evening
of my life, and now it is such a rare event to find
myself there.
To Mrs. Forster.
NORWICH, August 1, 1863.
MY DEAREST K. When do you go abroad ?
At this time of general moving I will not deny that
I have desires which carry me out of England, but
they are not very strong, as I more and more lose
taste for the ordinary short hurried journeys, on
or near beaten routes, among crowds of travellers,
which one generally makes at this season of the
year; and for the real enjoyable visit to Italy,
which I will one day manage to have, and which
will probably be the only thing of the kind I now
shall ever have, much as I could have desired to see
Greece, too, and the East, I know that my time
is not yet come. So I shall go quietly to Felix-
stowe next Thursday, and from there, in some
three weeks time, to Fox How. I have work to do
both at Felixstowe and at Fox How, and, if I can
get myself to do that, I am never dissatisfied or
unhappy. One's bad time is when one has some
work in one's head, but wants courage or free mo-
ments (though one seldom really wants the latter
if he has the former) to set about it.
TO LADY DE ROTHSCHILD. 231
I have told you how I admire this old place. It
is like a continental city, with its broken ground
and its forty churches. We have been three days
here, and three times I have been at service in the
cathedral. That is one of the points in which I have
an advantage over you. We are both of us by way
of being without ear for music, but a musical service
like that of Norwich Cathedral (it is said to be the
best in England) gives me very high pleasure, and
to you, I believe, it gives no pleasure at all. Your
ever affectionate brother, M. A.
To Lady de Rothschild*
THE ATHEN^UM, October 13, 1863.
DEAR LADY DE ROTHSCHILD I have just found
your kind note on my return to town. I cannot re-
sist your invitation, though since my fatal fortieth
birthday I have given up croquet, but, as you say,
there will be the woods. Will it suit you if I come on
Friday, the 23rd, and depart on Sunday, the 25th ?
I shall thus be with you on the 24th, the day you
name. Then I should come down, as formerly, by
the fast train in the morning. I must get back to
London on Sunday night, to be ready for my accus-
tomed toils on Monday.
I am very much obliged to you for telling me of
the article 2 in the Westminster, of which I had not
heard. I have just read it here. It contains so
much praise that you must have thought I wrote it
1 See p. 165.
2 " The Critical Character," Westminster Review, October
1863.
232 TO HIS MOTHER.
myself, except that I should hardly have called
myself by the hideous title of " Professor." I am
very glad you liked Heine; he was such a subject
as one does not get every day.
With kindest remembrances to your daughters,
and compliments to Sir Anthony, believe me, dear
Lady de Rothschild, ever most sincerely yours,
MATTHEW ARNOLD.
To his Mother.
THE ATHENAEUM, October 13, 1863.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I will write to-day, as I
am not sure of to-morrow, but I hope that we shall
still keep, as far as possible, our old days for writing.
What a happy time we had at Fox How, and what
a delightful recollection I have, and shall long
have, of you with the children, particularly with
the two dear little girls ! Habit reconciles one to
everything, but I am not yet by any means recon-
ciled to the change from our Fox How life to our
life here. Breakfast is particularly dismal, when
I come into the dining-room to find nobody, instead
of finding you, to look out on the whity-brown road
and houses of the square, instead of looking into
Fairfield, and to eat my breakfast without hearing
any letters read aloud by Fan. At this time of
year I have a particular liking for the country, and
the weather on Sunday and yesterday was so beau-
tiful that it made me quite restless to be off again.
To-day it is raining, and that composes me a little.
I send you a note of Lady de Rothschild's, which
you may burn. The Westminster article she was
TO HIS MOTHER. 233
the first to tell me of. I must send it you. It is a
contrast (all in my favour) of me with Ruskin. It
is the strongest pronunciamento on my side there
has yet been ; almost too strong for my liking, as it
may provoke a feeling against me. The reviewer
says, " Though confident, Mr. Arnold is never self-
willed ; though bold, he is never paradoxical." Tell
Fan to remember this in future when she plays
croquet with me. I also keep it as a weapon
against K., who said to me that I was becoming as
dogmatic as Ruskin. I told her the "difference was
that Ruskin was " dogmatic and wrong" and here
is this charming reviewer who comes to confirm me.
My love to dear Fan, and thanks for her note;
love too to dear old Susy. Your ever most affec-
tionate M. A.
To the Same.
October 29, 1863.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I have to-day inspected
a school, and read some things here which I wanted
to read. I am having a delightful spell of reading
without writing before I begin my Joubert arti-
cle. I must begin that in a week's time, however.
I have left at home an interesting letter (in Ger-
man) which I have had lately from a German in
England on the subject of my Heine article; Fan
will translate it to you, unless all the money paid
to Eber 1 was quite thrown away. Papa is men-
tioned in it. I was in poor force and low spirits
for the first ten days after I returned ; now I am
all right again, and hope to have a busy year. It
is very animating to think that one at last has a
i See p. 228.
234 TO LADY DE ROTHSCHILD.
chance of getting at the English public. Such a
public as it is, and such a work as one wants to
do with it ! Partly nature, partly time and study
have also by this time taught me thoroughly the
precious truth that everything turns upon one's
exercising the power of persuasion, of charm; that
without this all fury, energy, reasoning power, ac-
quirement, are thrown away and only render their
owner more miserable. Even in one's ridicule one
must preserve a sweetness and good-humour. I
had a pleasant visit at Aston Clinton, but the life
of these country houses (as I now neither shoot nor
hunt, both of which I should have done to excess
had I not been so torn away from them) wearies
me more and more, with its endless talking and
radical want of occupation. But Lady de Roths-
child I am very fond of, and she has given me the
prettiest little gold pencil in the world. I made
acquaintance with two more Rothschilds, Clem-
entine de Rothschild of Frankfort, and Alice de
Rothschild of Vienna the first exquisitely beau-
tiful, the second with a most striking character.
What women these Jewesses are ! with a force which
seems to triple that of the women of our Western
and Northern races. Your ever affectionate
M. A.
To Lady de Rothschild.
THE ATHENAEUM, LONDON,
October 30, 1863.
MY DEAR LADY DE ROTHSCHILD Many^ thanks
for the pheasants, which have arrived on a day of
such furious rain that really one thinks the poor
TO HIS MOTHER. 235
creatures, for their own sakes, better dead than
alive on it. I was glad Monday was fine for the
shooting party.
I mean to offer myself to Baroness Meyer for
the 27th, and if I go shall quite rely on meeting
you there all of you, at least, that Madame de
Lagrenee l and " education " have left. But I hope
that your goodness is rewarded as it deserves to be,
and that your fatigues prove to be less than you
could have expected. You know you are to fortify
yourself with my article on Marcus Aurelius, 2 in
which, I see, Miss Faithfull's lady compositors
have made some detestable misprints, to my great
disgust.
I am going to-morrow night (the last) to hear
Faust, entirely in consequence of the praise I heard
of it at Aston Clinton. Kemember me to all my
friends at that friendliest of places, and believe
me, dear Lady de Rothschild, ever most sincerely
yours, MATTHEW ARNOLD.
To his Mother.
THE ATHENAEUM, November 5, 1863.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I was surprised when
Tuesday morning came without your letter, but you
made excellent amends yesterday. I shall not be
able to repay you as you deserve, because, instead
of beginning my letter in good time, as I intended,
I allowed myself having taken up the Corre-
spondent, a review which is the organ of Montalem-
1 An enthusiast about Education.
2 In the Victoria Magazine, November 1863.
236 TO HIS MOTHER.
bert and the French Catholics to go on and on with
an article in it. But then the article was a very
interesting one ; it was an account of the reception
Kenan's book had met with in Germany, and an
analysis of the reviews of it by the representatives
of the most advanced liberal schools by Ewald
and Keim. They treat the book as having no value
beyond its graces of writing and style. No doubt,
there is something of jealousy in this. Their Bibli-
cal critics, who have been toiling all their lives, with
but a narrow circle of readers at the end of it all,
do not like to be so egregiously outshone in the eyes
of the world at large by a young gentleman who
takes it so easy as they think Kenan does. Still,
their condemnation is important and interesting.
All the more orthodox Protestant schools of Ger-
many, as well as the Catholics, condemn the book
as a matter of course, but Ewald and Keim are as
far removed from orthodox Protestantism and Ca-
tholicism as can be imagined. As I said to Miss
Martineau, when she sent me her friend's praise of
Kenan's admirable delineation of the character, etc.,
" A character, not the character." The book, how-
ever, will feed a movement which was inevitable,
and from which good will in the end come ; and
from Kenan himself, too, far more good is to be got
than harm.
We have had bad blowing weather, but in London,
as you say, one does not feel storms as one does at
Fox How. I wish I was at Fox How for all that.
We have had - - with us one day. He was
quite full of the Lord Palmerston scandal, which
TO MISS ARNOLD. 237
your charming newspaper, the Star that true re-
flexion of the rancour of Protestant Dissent in alli-
ance with all the vulgarity, meddlesomeness, and
grossness of the British multitude has done all
it could to spread abroad. It was followed yester-
day by the Standard, and is followed to-day by the
Telegraph. Happy people, in spite of our bad cli-
mate and cross tempers, with our penny newspapers !
. . . Flu told you of my seeing myself placarded
all over London as having written on Marcus Aure-
lius and having walked up Kegent Street behind a
man with a board on his back announcing the same
interesting piece of news. Now I must set to work
at Joubert. My love to dear Fan. Your ever most
affectionate M. A.
To Miss Arnold.
THE ATHENAEUM, LONDON,
November 11, 1863.
MY DEAREST FAN Yes, you may occasionally
take a Monday for mamma. Business first. There
was a Plato at Fox How a rubbishy little Tauch-
nitz edition in several volumes, half bound by the
hideous art of Combe and Crossley, Kugby and
Leicester ; but it had the value of being the edition
dear papa chiefly used when Plato was the lesson
in the Sixth Form. I have not got it. I may tell
you candidly that not even my reverence for papa's
memory would induce me to read Plato in such a
book. It is possible that Tom or Edward may have
it, but I have a certain sort of notion of having seen
the book in one of the upper shelves of the library
238 TO MISS ARNOLD.
at Fox How. When last I saw it, a volume, if not
two, was missing. But it is probably Plato's Repub-
lic which D wishes to read with his daughter.
She will there learn how the sage recommends a com-
munity of wives. One or two copies of the Repub-
lic, in paper, there used to be close by the Aristotles.
It is your own fault that so much of my valuable
space has been taken up by this rubbish. I am in
low spirits, having taken the first volume of Jou-
bert in a cab to the Fenchurch Street Station with
me to-day, and left it in the cab. I am furious
with myself ; the book is gone, and the lecture at
a standstill. My only hope is that the cabman,
whom I overpaid, may calculate that the half-crown
he might get from me for bringing it back is more
than any book-stall keeper would ever give him for
an odd volume, and may appear this evening with
the lost one.
When you wrote you did not know that Stanley
was Dean of Westminster. It is now said with so
much assurance that he is going to be married to
Lady Augusta Bruce that I begin to believe it.
She is the one person I could hear without misgiv-
ing of his marrying. All I have ever seen of her
I like very much. In my note of congratulation
about the deanery I mentioned this other topic.
You shall hear what he says. The only thing is I
am surprised, if it is true, he should not have written
to mamma to tell her of it.
The children are all very well, and Victorine *
continues to give great satisfaction. You know all
1 A French nursery-maid.
TO MRS. FORSTER. 239
people say about maid-servants being educated to
be above their place. Well, with English maid-
servants, it is odd, there is some truth in it. They
get information without any corresponding refine-
ment, and that sticks them up ; but this French
girl is doubled in value by her good education-,
which, while raising her above servant-galism, has
yet left her simple and willing to work. Nelly
grows an immense duck, and is entirely Victorine's
favourite. My love to dearest mamma. Your ever
affectionate M. A.
To Mrs. Forster.
November 14, 1863.
MY DEAREST K. You will have been greatly
interested by Arthur Stanley's deanery and engage-
ment. I have twice in Paris seen a good deal of
Lady Augusta, and like and respect her exceedingly.
The only thing I do not like in the whole change is
that I am afraid Stanley will not have the right
successor at Oxford, and that he himself is using
his influence against the right successor (Church) l
in favour of a wrong one, who is his immediate dis-
ciple. This I should greatly regret. I am glad
to hear, however, that Gladstone, who in such an
appointment ought to have great weight with Lord
Palmerston, is most pressing for Church.
I have never had an opportunity of saying to you
how good I thought William's speech at Leeds ; a
so moderate that I actually expected it to have
1 The Rev. R. W. Church, afterwards Dean of St. Paul's.
2 In favour of non-intervention in the American War ; Sep-
tember 21, 1863.
240 TO HIS MOTHER.
somewhat carried the Times with it. This mira-
cle it did not perform, but it attracted a general
interest, and, I think, a general assent, which must
have pleased you very much. I think in this con-
cluding half of the century the English spirit
is destined to undergo a great transformation; or
rather, perhaps I should say, to perform a great
evolution, and I know no one so well fitted as
William, by his combined intelligence and modera-
tion, to be the parliamentary agent and organ for
this movement. That will be a post well worth a
man's ambition to fill. I shall do what I can for
this movement in literature ; freer perhaps in that
sphere than I could be in any other, but with the
risk always before me, if I cannot charm the wild
beast of Philistinism while I am trying to convert
him, of being torn in pieces by him ; and, even if
I succeed to the utmost and convert him, of dying
in a ditch or a workhouse at the end of it all.
Your ever affectionate M. A.
To his Mother.
THE ATHENAEUM, November 19, 1863.
MY DEAREST MOTHER Thank you for your let-
ter, which I could not answer yesterday, and have
been very near not answering to-day, so busy I am
with reading for my lecture. The lecture has to be
given on Saturday week, and not a word written yet !
Like me, Fan will say, and you will take my part.
And next week will be interrupted, besides that I
shall have to inspect every day. On the Monday
TO HIS MOTHER. 241
week following I must be back in London for the
Christmas examination, and during that examination
I must write the second part of my French Eton l
for Macmillan. I am anxious about this second part,
as the prejudices are strong, and I want to prevail
against them ; this cannot be done without prodigies
of persuasion and insinuation. But we shall see.
Then after Christmas I mean to take a fortnight
without thinking of any composition at all, merely
reading one or two things I want to read, and doing
my office business. Indeed, next year I mean to do
nothing for the magazines except one article on
the effect of institutions like the French Academy.
But I hope to do some poetry and to ripen. Tell
Fan I have got the volume of Joubert. That is
the good of always overpaying cabmen. I gave
the man who drove me that day, as I always do,
sixpence over his fare; he thanked me, and his
heart had a kindly feeling towards me. Then
afterwards he found my book in his cab, and
brought it back that evening to Chester Square,
from whence he had driven me. I have not seen
of Jean Ingelow more than I had seen in the Guar-
dian when I spoke to Fan about her. She seemed
to me to be quite " above the common," but I have
not read enough of her to say more. It is a great
deal to give one true feeling in poetry, and I think
she seemed to be able to do that; but I do not at
present very much care for poetry unless it can
give me true thought as well. It is the alliance of
1 A French Eton ,- or Middle Class Education and the State.
1864.
VOL. I. R
242 TO HIS MOTHER.
these two that makes great poetry, the only poetry
really worth very much.
William has got the house in Eccleston Square.
He dined with us last night. . . . He and Jane
seem to have thoroughly liked my Marcus Aurelius.
I have not yet heard whether you and Fan have
read it. I am not quite pleased with my Times
Spinoza as an article for Macmillan ; 1 it has too
much of the brassiness and smartness of a Times
article in it. This should be a warning to me not
to write for the Times, or indeed for any news-
paper. Your ever affectionate M. A.
To the Same.
NEWCASTLE-ON-TYNE,
December 2, 1863.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I hope to find a letter
from you at Durham, whither we are going pres-
ently, but I shall begin this here, for fear of acci-
dents. When last I wrote to you I was driven
very hard; however, by dint of writing in the
train and at stations in every bit of spare time I
got on Friday, and of getting up at five on Satur-
day morning, my lecture was finished in time, and
at half -past one I reached Oxford, and at two gave
my lecture. Arthur Stanley was not there, as the
Crown Princess of Prussia was being lionised over
Oxford, and for the same reason many of my ordi-
nary hearers were absent; but the room was full,
there being many more undergraduates than usual.
*"A Word more about Spinoza," Macmillan's
December 1863,
TO HIS MOTHER.
243
People seemed much interested, and I am convinced
that the novelty of one's subjects acts as a great
and useful stimulus. I had slept at Mentmore on
Friday night, the Meyer de Rothschild's place.
Meyer is the youngest brother, but Mentmore is
the grandest place possessed by any of the family ;
its magnificence surpasses belief. It is like a
Venetian palace doubled in size, and all Europe
has been ransacked to fill it with appropriate furni-
ture. In the great hall hang three immense lamps,
which formerly did actually belong to a doge of
Venice. All the openings in this great hall are
screened by hangings of Gobelins tapestry, and
when you stand in the passage that runs round
this hall from the top of the grand staircase, and
look through the arcades across and down into the
hall, it is like fairyland. Lady de Rothschild and
her daughters had come over from Aston Clinton
to meet me, and at dinner I sat between Lady de
Rothschild and Baroness Meyer. The latter is a
very remarkable person, with a man's power of mind,
and with great enthusiasm, but my unapproached
favourite is, and will always be, Lady de Rothschild.
I went to bed at twelve, and at five I woke,
found the fire hardly gone out and the room quite
warm, so I lighted my candles, seated myself at
a little Louis XV. table, and had three hours
of splendid work, which finished my lecture. At
eight I went to bed again for an hour, at nine got
up and strolled on the terraces, looking at the
splendid view across the vale of Aylesbury to the
Chilterns till a little after ten, when we break-
244 TO HIS MOTHER.
fasted. Then I sat a little with the Baroness
Meyer in her boudoir, and at a little after eleven
they sent me to Leighton as they had fetched me
from it with horses that did the five miles in
twenty-five minutes. Both the Baron and Baroness
were very kind, and I have almost promised to go
there again between Christmas and April, and to
take Flu with me, who will be enchanted with the
place. I got back to Chester Square about seven,
found dear old K. and William there, dined with
them, and got to King's Cross about nine. I had
a capital night journey, having taken plenty of
wraps, and making for myself a bed with my port-
manteau and the cushions to fill up the middle
space of the carriage. At five I got here, and
found the people up waiting for me, and a blazing
fire in my room ; I went to bed, and slept capitally
for three hours. In the afternoon I walked about
Newcastle with the Judge. On Monday I worked
all day at Office papers and cleared off my arrears
while the Judge was sitting in court; we dined
t&te-&-t&te afterwards. Yesterday he had finished
his business, so we went to Tynemouth together.
It was a sombre day, and blew tremendously, but
I am very glad to have seen Tynemouth. I had
no notion how open the sea was, how beautiful the
situation of the Priory, and how grand the coast.
There is a long new pier made, and standing on
this watching the steamers tugging vessels over
the bar, which, from the wind and swell, was a
difficult operation, I got quite perished. Back
here and dressed for dinner, and at seven we went
TO LADY DE ROTHSCHILD. 245
in the High Sheriff's carriage to Ravens worth
Castle to dine with Lord Kavensworth. It is a
very grand place. Lady Ravens worth is dead.
He has three grown-up daughters at home, and
there was a very small party staying in the house
Sir Matthew White Ridley, Morritt of Rokeby,
and others. It was very pleasant, the Liddells
being all an amiable family, and with nothing at
all of the English morgue; and after dinner Lord
Ravensworth seized upon me to consult me about
his Latin poetry, of which I had to read a great
deal, and he has given me a great deal more. I
could have dispensed with this, though he is
rather a proficient at it; but I like and respect
these "polite" tastes in a grandee; it weakens the
English nobility that they are so dying out among
them. They were far more common in the last
century. At present far too many of Lord Ravens-
worth's class are mere men of business, or mere
farmers, or mere horse-racers, or mere men of
pleasure. Here is a long letter which deserves a
double letter next week, one from both you and
Fan. My love to her. Your ever affectionate
M. A.
To Lady de Rothschild.
THE ATHENAEUM, LONDON,
December 21, 1863.
MY DEAR LADY DE ROTHSCHILD Pray give
Sir Anthony my best thanks for the kind present
of game from Aston Clinton. From the game I
conclude Sir Anthony has been shooting his covers,
and from the covers having been shot I conclude
246 TO LADY DE ROTHSCHILD.
you have been having your house full; meanwhile,
I have had a triste time of it, having been greatly
shocked and grieved by the sudden death of Mrs.
Arnold's father, Mr. Justice Wightman, at York,
a day or two after I had left him in perfect health.
When I saw you at Mentmore I was just going to
join him on the winter circuit. Though nearly
eighty, he had not shown the slightest failure up
to the hour of his death. His hearing was perfect,
and he did not even use glasses, so you may im-
agine what an unlooked-for shock his sudden death
of a heart complaint which no one ever suspected
gave his family, none of whom could reach him
from London before he died. Then came all the
time before the funeral, and the funeral itself
certainly, as we moderns manage these things,
the most dismal and depressing business possible,
and one emerges into the light of day again,
oneself half -effaced, and without spirit or tone.
Shall you be in Grosvenor Place in the next
week or two? If I don't see you, look in the
January number of the National Review for my
article on Joubert; I think it will interest you.
If I outlive you (you see how cheerful 1 am just
now) I will send your daughters a description of
Madame de Beaumont, taken from Joubert's let-
ters, which wonderfully suits you. Remember me
to them and to Sir Anthony. Yours ever most
sincerely, MATTHEW ARNOLD.
Have you read Pet Marjorie ? l If not, let me send
it you.
1 By the author of Rab and his Friends.
TO HIS MOTHER. 247
To his Mother.
THE ATHENJEUM, LONDON,
December 24, 1863.
MY DEAREST MOTHER Business first. I am
delighted with the wooden platter and bread knife,
for which articles I have long had a fancy, the
platter too I like all the better for not having an
inscription, only a border of corn ears. Dear
Bowland's book has not yet come. Thank her for
it all the same, and tell her I will write to her
when I receive it. And thank dear K. for her
letter, and dear Fan for her note, and receive all
my thanks for your own, my dearest mother.
While writing these last words I have heard the
startling news of the sudden death of Thackeray.
He was found dead in his bed this morning. If
you have not seen it in the newspaper before you
read this, you will all be greatly startled and
shocked, as I am. I have heard no particulars.
I cannot say that I thoroughly liked him, though
we were on friendly terms ; and he is not, to my
thinking, a great writer. Still, this sudden cessa-
tion of an existence so lately before one's eyes, so
vigorous and full of life, and so considerable a
power in the country, is very sobering, if, indeed,
after the shock of a fortnight ago, one still needs
sobering. To-day I am forty-one, the middle of
life, in any case, and for me, perhaps, much more
than the middle. I have ripened, and am ripening
so slowly that I should be glad of as much time
as possible, yet I can feel, I rejoice to say, an in-
248 TO HIS MOTHER.
ward spring which seems more and more to gain
strength, and to promise to resist outward shocks,
if they must come, however rough. But of this
inward spring one must not talk, for it does not
like being talked about, and threatens to depart if
one will not leave it in mystery.
Budge's letter which you sent us was a great
pleasure to me, far the longest of his I have seen,
and the naJivete of his reason for its length was
charming. We are very well pleased with him,
and with Matt Buckland's account of him; and
that school does not harden his heart is a great
peril surmounted. He cried bitterly at his grand-
papa's funeral, and Matt Buckland writes me word
that he could not sleep the night after. This was
not his grief perhaps so much as his imagination,
which had been strongly moved by the service, the
hearse, the plumes, the coffin; but in a healthy
boy like Budge one is pleased that the imagination
too should be alive. Flu tells me that his account
to her of the funeral was quite beautiful, and most
affecting. He was a great favourite of his grand-
papa's, and what one likes is that he should now
feel this with tenderness, and not, with the hideous
levity of our nature, instantly forget it.
We dine to-morrow in Eaton Place, where I have
dined on so many Christmas Days. The first
Christmas Day after our marriage we spent at Fox
How; every one since that I have passed with the
Judge.
My love to all at Fox How on Christmas Day.
Your ever most affectionate M. A.
TO MRS. FORSTER. 249
To Mrs. Forster.
THE ATHEN^UM (January 1864).
MY DEAREST K. I was very much pleased
with William's speech l at Bradford, and he seems
to me more and more to be acquiring a tone and
spirit in his public speeches which will give him
a character apart, and distinguish him from the
old stagers, whose stock vulgar Liberalism will
not satisfy even the middle class, whose wants it
was originally modelled to meet, much longer.
This treatment of politics with one's thought, or
with one's imagination, or with one's soul, in place
of the common treatment of them with one's Phi-
listinism and with one's passions, is the only thing
which can reconcile, it seems to me, any serious per-
son to politics, with their inevitable wear, waste,
and sore trial to all that is best in one. I consider
that William's special distinction is that he treats
them with his soul, but whenever they are treated
by either of the three powers I have named the
result is interesting. What makes Burke stand
out so splendidly among politicians is that he
treats politics with his thought and imagination;
therefore, whether one agrees with him or not, he
always interests you, stimulates you, and does you
good. I have been attentively reading lately his
Reflections on the French Revolution, and have felt
this most strongly, much as there is in his view
of France and her destinies which is narrow and
1 Dealing with the American War, and with Parliamentary
Reform ; January 8, 18G4.
250 TO HIS MOTHER.
erroneous. But I advise William to read it, and
you too, if you have not read it or have forgotten
it, and indeed to read something of Burke 's every
year.
I have the second part of my French Eton in
this next Macmillan. It will take a third part to
finish it. In this part I am really labouring hard
to persuade, and have kept myself from all which
might wound, provoke, or frighten, with a solici-
tude which I think you will hardly fail to perceive,
and which will perhaps amuse you; but to school
oneself to this forbearance is an excellent disci-
pline, if one does it for right objects. Your ever
affectionate M. A.
To his Mother.
THE ATHENAEUM, January 14, 1864.
MY DEAREST MAMMA I am a day behindhand,
but I have been very busy. My toothache is gone,
and I am at work again ; but this depressing foggy
weather hinders one from opening one's wings
much. Will you ask Stanley how far the Regius
Professors at Oxford or Cambridge are actually
paid by the State? I know, of course, that the
holders of canonries are not. But is Goldwin
Smith? is Acland? is Kingsley? Please don't
forget this, and let me know what he says. My
love to him, and kind regards to Lady Augusta.
You don't say that you have received the Jou-
bert, but I take for granted you have. Make
Arthur l look at it, and tell him if he has ever read
1 Dean Stanley.
TO HIS MOTHER. 251
better religious philosophy than Joubert's I have
not. I expect him to order his Penstes on the
strength of my specimens.
I like William's speech very much, and for a
special reason that the goodness, even the gen-
tleness, of his nature comes out so much in it.
This is so very rare a merit in public speeches;
even if they have any goodness or gentleness in
themselves, they so seldom can get any of it into
their speeches. The very antithesis to the spirit
of William's speeches is the spirit of the articles
of that vile Star.
I have a very pleasant thing to tell you. A day
or two ago I had a note from Sainte Beuve telling
me that he had made a little mention of me in
the Constitutionnel of the 12th, in an article on the
Greek Anthology, as a sort of New Year's remem-
brance. Yesterday I read his article here, and
what he had said was charming, as what he says
always is. It was about my criticism of Homer,
and he told excellently, quoting it from me, the
fine anecdote about Robert Wood and the Lord
Granville l of a hundred years ago. But the pleas-
1 Lord Carteret became Earl Granville in 1744, and died in
1703. The anecdote is this : " Robert Wood, whose essay on
the Genius of Homer is mentioned by Goethe as one of the
books which fell into his hands when his powers were first
developing themselves, and strongly interested him, relates of
this passage a striking story. He says that in 1762, at the end
of the Seven Years' War, being then Under-Secretary of State,
he was directed to wait upon the President of the Council, Lord
Granville, a few days before he died, with the preliminary arti-
cles of the Treaty of Paris. 'I found him,' he continues, 'so
languid, that I proposed postponing my business for another
252 TO HIS MOTHER.
antest was this : towards the end of the article he
mentioned papa, saying in a note that I was his
son, and translated from him with warm praise the
long passage about our first feelings of disappoint-
time ; but he insisted that I should stay, saying it could not
prolong his life to neglect his duty ; and repeating the follow-
ing passage out of Sarpedon's speech, he dwelled with particu-
lar emphasis on the third line, which recalled to his mind the
distinguishing part he had taken in public affairs :
el fj.tv yap Tr6\efjiov -rrepl r6v5e Qvybvre
alel di) fj.^\\oifj.ev dy/ipa) r' ddavdraj re
<l<r(re<rd\ ovre ttev avrbs tvl irptbToicri /AaxotfAijv,*
cure K <r (TT^XXotym /xa%r;i/ ^s Kvdidveipav.
vvv 5' e/iTTTjs yap /c^pes tyeffraffLv Qa.v6.roio
fjivptai, as oi>K ftrrt <f>vyeiv fiporbv otid' vird\v%ai
" ' Could all our care elude the gloomy grave,
Which claims no less the fearful than the brave,
For lust of fame I should not vainly dare
In fighting fields, nor urge thy soul to war.
But since, alas ! ignoble age must come,
Disease, and Death's inexorable doom,
The life, which others pay, let us bestow,
And give to Fame what we to Nature owe.
Pope's Horn. II. xii. 387.
" ' His Lordship repeated the last word several times with a
calm and determinate resignation ; and after a serious pause of
some minutes, he desired to hear the Treaty read, to which he
listened with great attention, and recovered spirits enough to
declare the approbation of a dying statesman (I use his own
words) " on the most glorious war, and most honourable peace,
this nation ever saw." ' "
* These are the words on which Lord Granville " d.welled
with particular emphasis."
TO HIS MOTHER. 253
ment at seeing great works like the Cartoons, St.
Peter's, etc. The passage was beautifully trans-
lated, and I was extremely struck with its just-
ness, clearness, and beauty on thus reading it in a
new language. I always say that what so distin-
guished papa from Temple was the profound literary
sense which was a part of his being, along with all
his governing and moral qualities. I tried to get
you the Constitutionnel, but one cannot in London,
so I have asked Sainte Beuve to send it me. I
have such a re'spect for a certain circle of men,
perhaps the most truly cultivated in the world,
which exists at Paris, that I have more pleasure
than I can say in seeing papa brought before them
so charmingly, and just in the best way to make
them appreciate him.
I work here at my French Eton from about eleven
to three; then I write my letters; then I walk
home and look over grammar papers till dinner;
then dinner and a game of cards with the boys;
then grammar papers for an hour and a half more ;
then an hour or half an hour's reading before bed.
I have got an excellent master from one of the
Training Schools to come to Chester Square for an
hour each morning to teach the boys arithmetic.
It makes a capital holiday lesson. Budge has a
cold. I think you have quite children enough, but
if he really is bent on going I shall not dissuade
him. The three boys were delighted with your
letters. I hope and trust your cough is gone. I
hate coughs. Love to Fan. Your ever affection-
ate M. A.
254 TO HIS MOTHER.
To Lad/y de Rothschild.
2 CHESTER SQUARE, January 22 (1864).
MY DEAR LADY DE ROTHSCHILD You know
that I always like to see you, and Disraeli, and
the Bishop of Oxford 1 especially together. I
should like to meet, but it is not easy to escape
from my devouring schools, even for a day. How-
ever, you shall not say that I always refuse your
invitations, so I will put off my Thursday school,
and hear the Bishop preach, but I must positively
be back in London by ten o'clock or thereabouts on
Friday morning, as two days I cannot take from
schools just now. I will be with you by dinner
time on Wednesday, taking care (of course) not to
arrive too early in the afternoon. I shall be eager
to hear all about Paris. Yours ever most sin-
cerely, MATTHEW ARNOLD.
To his Mother.
CROWN COURT SCHOOLS,
Januanj 22, 1864.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I have been quite un-
able to write till now. I have begun inspecting
again, and at the same time I have my report to
finish.
I was sure you would be pleased with Joubert,
and you say just what I like when you speak of
"handing on the lamp of life" for him. That is
just what I wish to do, and it is by doing that that
one does good. I can truly say, not that I would
i Dr. Wilberforce.
TO HIS MOTHER. 255
rather have the article not mentioned at all than
called a brilliant one, but that I would far rather
have it said how delightful and interesting a man
was Joubert than how brilliant my article is. In
the long-run one makes enemies by having one's
brilliancy and ability praised; one can only get
oneself really accepted by men by making oneself
forgotten in the people and doctrines one recom-
mends. I have had this much before my mind in
doing the second part of my French Eton. I really
want to persuade on this subject, and I have felt
how necessary it was to keep down many and many
sharp and telling things that rise to one's lips, and
which one would gladly utter if one's object was
to show one's own abilities. You must read this
article, though it is on a professional kind of sub-
ject, and the third and concluding article will be
the most general and interesting one. But you
must read it that you may notice the effect of the
effort of which I have told you. I think such an
effort a moral discipline of the very best sort for
one. I hope Dr. Davy will go along with me here
as well as in the first article. Lend Mrs. Davy
the National, that she may read Joubert; the true
old Wordsworthians, to which band she and I both
belong, are just the people for whom Joubert is
properly meant.
My dear Lady de Rothschild has written me the
kindest of notes begging me to come and stay at
Aston Clinton next week to meet the Bishop of
Oxford and Disraeli. It would be interesting cer-
tainly, but I don't see how I am to manage it. On
2f>() TO HIS MOTHER.
Tuesday fortnight Budge goes back to school. It
was his own choice to remain at home, but I was
glad of it, as you have so many children on your
hands already. I am sorry to say he and Tom
quarrel not unfrequently, so your praise in your
letter to Flu this morning read rather painfully.
However, my consolation is that we most of us
quarrelled as children, and yet have not grown up
quite monsters. Children with Dick's disposition
are, I am sure, the exceptions. To-morrow between
two and five think of me at the Princess's, with
Lucy, Budge, and Mrs. Tufnn. Your ever affec-
tionate M. A.
To the Same.
ASTON CLINTON PARK, THING,
January 28, 1864.
MY DEAREST MOTHER It will take at least
this sheet added to the one I wrote the other night
to make my proper weekly letter. I have so often
refused to come here, alleging my inspecting duties,
that I thought this time I would come, and I am
glad I have. I inspected yesterday in Bethnal
Green, got home to a late luncheon, and a little
before five left home again in a hansom for Euston
Square. When I got to Tring I found the court
outside the station full of carriages bound for Aston
Clinton and no means of getting a fly ; but Count
d'Apponyi, the Austrian Ambassador, took me
with him. We got here just after the Bishop, at
half-past seven, just in time to dress, and a little
after eight we dined. The house was quite full
TO HIS MOTHER. 257
last night. Count d'Apponyi, the Bishop of Ox-
ford, the Disraelis, Sir Edward and Lady Filmer,
Lord John Hay, the young Lord Huntly, the
young Nathaniel Rothschild, Mr. Dawson Darner,
Mr. E/aikes Currie, Mr. John Abel Smith, Arch-
deacon Bickersteth, and one or two other clergy
were the party at dinner, almost all of them stay-
ing in the house. I took Constance Eothschild
in to dinner, and was placed between her and Mrs.
Disraeli; on Mrs. Disraeli's other side was the
Bishop of Oxford. I thought the Bishop a little
subdued and guarded, though he talked incessantly.
Mrs. Disraeli is not much to my taste, though she
is a clever woman, and told me some amusing
stories. Dizzy sat opposite, looking moody, black,
and silent, but his head and face, when you see
him near and for some time, are very striking.
After the ladies went he was called over by the
Bishop to take Mrs. Disraeli's vacant place. After
a little talk to the Bishop he turned to me and
asked me very politely if this was my first visit to
Buckinghamshire, how I liked the county, etc.;
then he said he thought he had seen me somewhere,
and I said Lord Houghton had introduced me to
him eight or nine years ago at a literary dinner
among a crowd of other people. "Ah yes, I
remember," he said, and then he went on: "At
that time I had a great respect for the name you
bore, but you yourself were little known. Now
you are well known. You have made a reputation,
but you will go further yet. You have a great
future before you, and you deserve it." I bowed
VOL. I. S
258 TO HIS MOTHER.
profoundly, and said something about his having
given up literature. "Yes," he said, "one does
not settle these things for oneself, and politics and
literature both are very attractive; still, in the one
one's work lasts, and in the other it doesn't." He
went on to say that he had given up literature
because he was not one of those people who can
do two things at once, but that he admired most
the men like Cicero, who could. Then we talked
of Cicero, Bolingbroke, and Burke. Later in the
evening, in the drawing-room, we talked again. I
mentioned William Forster's name, telling him my
connexion with him, and he spoke most highly of
him and of his prospects, saying, just as I always
say, how his culture and ideas distinguished him
from the mob of Radicals. He spoke strongly of
the harm he and Stansfeld and such- men suffered
in letting themselves be "appropriated," as he
called it, by Palmerston, with whom they really
had not the least agreement. Of Bright's powers
as a speaker he spoke very highly, but thought his
cultivation defective and his powers of mind not
much; for Cobden's powers of mind he professed
the highest admiration. "He was born a States-
man," he said, "and his reasoning is always like
a Statesman's, and striking." He ended by asking
if I lived in London, and begging me to come and
see him. I daresay this will not go beyond my
leaving a card, but at all events what I have
already seen of him is very interesting. I daresay
the chief of what he said about me myself was said
in consequence of Lady de Rothschild, for whom
TO LADY DE ROTHSCHILD. 259
he has a great admiration, having told him she
had a high opinion of me; but it is only from
politicians who have themselves felt the spell of
literature that one gets these charming speeches.
Imagine Palmerston or Lord Granville making
them; or again, Lowe or Cardwell. The Disraelis
went this morning. Of the Bishop and his sermon
I must tell you in my next. I had hardly any talk
with him. He too is now gone, but there is a large
party to-night again; early to-morrow morning I
return to London. My love to Fan. Your ever
affectionate M. A.
To Lady de Rothschild:
THE 'ATHEN.EUM, January 29, 1864.
MY DEAR LADY DE ROTHSCHILD I stupidly
left behind me this morning my dressing-case and
an umbrella. Will you kindly let them come up
the next time you are sending anything to Gros-
venor Place. I can perfectly well do without
them in the meantime. The umbrella was Mrs.
Arnold's, so to the sin of carelessness I have
added the sin of robbery.
If Mr. John Abel Smith is still with you pray
tell him that I have posted his letter. And pray
mention in another quarter that when I am invited
to receive adieux I expect an interview, not a
drowsy good-bye from the other side of a shut
door. But I was born for ill-treatment ; you know
how Mademoiselle de Lagrenee treated me at Ment-
more.
I had a most pleasant time at Aston Clinton,
260 TO HIS MOTHER.
and now I must again fix my mind on Bonstetten's
excellent text: "Rien ne sauve dans cette vie-ci
que 1'occupation et le travail." Most sincerely
yours, MATTHEW ARNOLD.
My hands are so frozen that I should refuse
myself a grant if I had to mark my own hand-
writing.
To his Mother.
THE ATHENJEUM, February 2, 1864.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I am glad you and Fan
are going to the peace and warmth of Helme -Lodge,
and hope to hear you are quite set up again by
it. Remember me very kindly to Mr. and Mrs.
Crewdson.
I have a note from Macmillan, who is an ex-
tremely intelligent, active man, sending me a
cheque for my article, 1 and saying he only wished
he could afford to pay it in any degree in propor-
tion to its worth so excellent and important did
he think it. If one can interest and carry along
with one men like him, one will do. I have sent
the articles to two men whom I think it important
to interest in the question Cobden and Sir John
Pakington; Cobden because of his influence with
the middle classes, Pakington because of his lead
among the educationists. From Cobden I had an
interesting letter, written on the receipt of the
articles, before he read them, to say that he should
certainly read them and was prepared to be inter-
ested, but that his main interest was in the condi-
1 A French Eton, Part IL
TO HIS MOTHER. 261
tion of the lower class. But I am convinced that
nothing can be done effectively to raise this class
except through the agency of a transformed middle
class; for, till the middle class is transformed, the
aristocratic class, which will do nothing effectively,
will rule. Tell Fan I don't want the September
Macmillan l now. I don't think it worth while to
send you these shilling magazines, but if you won't
otherwise see my article, I will.
The Bishop of Oxford had a rather difficult task
of it in his sermon, 2 for opposite to him was ranged
all the house of Israel, and he is a man who likes
to make things pleasant to those he is on friendly
terms with. He preached on Abraham, his force
of character and his influence on his family; he
fully saved his honour by introducing the mention
of Christianity three or four times, but the sermon
was in general a sermon which Jews as well as
Christians could receive. His manner and delivery
are well worth studying, and I am very glad to
have heard him. A truly emotional spirit he
undoubtedly has beneath his outside of society-
haunting and men-pleasing, and each of the two
lives he leads gives him the more zest for the other.
Any real power of mind he has not. Some of the
thinking, or pretended thinking, in his sermon was
sophistical and hollow beyond belief. I was inter-
ested in finding how instinctively Lady de Koths-
child had seized on this. His chaplain told me,
however, that I had not heard him at his best,
1 Containing A French Eton, Part I.
2 On the opening of a school at Buckland, near Aston Clinton.
262 TO HIS MOTHER.
as he certainly preached under some constraint.
Where he was excellent was in his speeches at
luncheon afterwards gay, easy, cordial, and
wonderfully happy. He went on to Marlow after
luncheon. We had another great dinner in the
evening, with dancing afterwards. I sat and
talked most of the evening to Lady de Kothschild.
The next morning I breakfasted in my own room,
was off in Lady de Kothschild' s little Viennese
carriage to the station at a quarter past eight, and
was at a school in Covent Garden at ten. These
occasional appearances in the world I like no, I
do not like them, but they do one good, and one
learns something from them; but, as a general
rule, I agree with all the men of soul from Pythag-
oras to Byron in thinking that this type of society
is the most drying, wasting, depressing and fatal
thing possible. Your ever affectionate M. A.
To the Same.
THE ATHENAEUM, February 11, 1864.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I am glad you liked the
second part of my French Eton, and I think it will
in time produce much effect. I shall have several
letters to send you which I have received about it,
but have not got them with me at this moment
one from Cobden, very interesting. I send you
one I got last night from a middle-class mother.
It may burn. I also send you a note from Paking-
ton. To him and Cobden I sent the Macmillan,
because Cobden is a sort of representative of the
middle classes, and Pakington is the statesman
TO HIS MOTHER. 263
most inclined, in education matters, to take the
course I want to see taken. Pakington had not
read my articles when he wrote, but what he says
of my French book is valuable, because it is impor-
tant that these people should have a good opinion
of one's judgment. Pakington 's note Fan may as
well keep part of as an autograph, he having been
a Cabinet Minister. I send, too, a note of Coventry
Patmore's, in case she wishes to have the autograph
of that worthy but mildish author. I send another
letter from my German friend, which may burn.
I am so pressed by school work just now that I
cannot finish my French Eton till the April number
of Macmillan. In this next fortnight I have my
lecture for Oxford to write, but I have a good sub-
ject which has been some time in my head.
In my notions about the State I am quite papa's
son, and his continuator. I often think of this
the more so because in this direction he has had so
few who felt with him. But I inherit from him a
deep sense of what, in the Greek and Koman world,
was sound and rational. Your ever affectionate
M. A.
To the Same.
THE ATHEN^UM, February 16, 1864.
MY DEAREST MOTHER You will have seen the
Spectator of this week, which pleases me very much.
The Nonconformist, Miall's organ, has taken the
alarm, and in an anxious notice in the last number
says, "Mr. Arnold has no notion of the depth of
the feeling against State interference," etc. But I
264 TO LADY DE ROTHSCHILD.
of the depth of the feeling among the Dis-
senting ministers, who have hitherto greatly swayed
the middle class. But I shall come to this in my
next article. I mean, as I told Fan in the autumn,
to deliver the middle class out of the hand of their
Dissenting ministers. The mere difficulty of the
task is itself rather an additional incentive to un-
dertake it. The malaise of the Council Office, as
they see me gradually bringing to their fold fresh
sheep whom they by no means want, will be comic.
But the present entire independence of middle
class education is here an advantage to me ; it being
not in any way an official matter, the Council Office
cannot complain of my treating it, as one of the
public, without appearing to think our existing
Education Department the least concerned. Last
night Laurie dined with us, and in the middle of
dessert proposed to Tom and Dick to start for
Astley's to see the Pantomime. You may imagine
their delight at this sudden proposal, and off they
went, and were not back till twelve. We have
heard from Budge. He sent a valentine to each of
his sisters. He seemed in very fair spirits, and is
beginning G-reek. Jjove to Fan. Your ever affec-
tionate M. A.
To Lady de Rothschild.
THE ATHEN^UM, March 15, 1864.
MY DEAR LADY DE ROTHSCHILD I am perfectly
miserable with fret and worry in composing the last
part of my French Eton under difficulties. The dif-
ficulties are the daily inspection of a large school,
TO HIS MOTHER. 265
where, instead of finding everything perfectly pre-
pared for me, as it was in Bell Lane, I have to go
through every schedule myself, correcting the errors
and supplying the omissions of the Managers and
teachers. Imagine the pleasure of finding out for
oneself from each of 500 boys what his father is ;
and if, as generally happens, he is a tradesman, of
finding out besides whether he is a small or great
tradesman, and how many people he employs !
Such is inspection at present. You saw, however,
that Mr. Lowe had to give way the other night, and
I think there are other and graver storms brew-
ing for him. My very kind remembrances at Aston
Clinton.^ Yours ever sincerely,
MATTHEW ARNOLD.
To his Mother.
CHESTER SQUARE, March 17, 1864.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I send you a note from
Smith and Elder, which may burn. To the last
day I live I shall never get over a sense of grat-
itude and surprise at finding my productions accept-
able, when I see so many people all round me so
hard put to it to find a market. This comes from
a deep sense of the native similarity of people's
spirits, and that if one spirit seems richer than
another, it is rather that it has been given to him
to find more things, which it might equally have
been given to others to find, than that he has seized
or invented them by superior power and merit. My
Oxford lecture 1 will be in this next Cornhill, but a
1 " Pagan and Christian Religious Sentiment."
266 TO LADY DE ROTHSCHILD.
good deal about Protestantism is left out, as I think
I told you it would be, as it could not be stated
fully enough quite to explain and secure itself. I
am bothered about the third part of my French
Eton, but I hope to-morrow and Saturday may bring
it to something I like. After Monday I shall have
done with writing for a week or ten days. My love
to all. Your ever affectionate M. A.
To Lady de Rothschild.
2 CHESTER SQUARE, March 25, 1864.
MY DEAR LADY DE ROTHSCHILD The French
Eton could not be finished, owing to all the inter-
ruptions I told you of interruptions which dis-
abled me beyond the power of being revived even by
your too flattering sentences. Now I shall go to
work again in the comparative leisure of next week.
But what an east wind this is, and how it exasperates
everything that is furious, vicious, and contrary in
one ! Let me know if you are likely to be in Lon-
don this week or next. Work thickens upon me,
and I am afraid there is hardly any chance of my
getting at present a delightful day's breathing
space at Aston Clinton. With kindest remembrances
to all my friends there, I am always, most sincerely
yours, MATTHEW ARNOLD.
To the Same.
CHESTER SQUARE, April 7, 1864.
DEAR LADY DE ROTHSCHILD I have again to
go to Brentford to-morrow, but I shall be delighted
to go to the play on Saturday, only there must be
TO HIS MOTHER. 267
no falling asleep. If you ask me what to go to, I
say Leah, because I have not seen it, and I have seen
most of the other things that are being given now ;
but I will go with meekness and contentment to
whatever you please.
I hope Dicky's invasion was not too terrible this
morning. He says you were all extremely kind to
him. Ever sincerely yours,
MATTHEW ARNOLD.
To his Mother.
HAVERHILL B.S., April 29, 1864.
MY DEAREST MOTHER This is a place on the
borders between Cambridgeshire, Suffolk, and Essex
not three very lovely counties, yet this* is their
prettiest region, and any country would be pretty
now, with the fruit-trees all in blossom and spring
in full flush everywhere, if it were not for the hor-
rible and hateful north-east wind. Edward thinks
my life is all ease. Now I will tell him of my two
last days and to-day. The day before yesterday up
at seven. Wrote letters and so on till breakfast. At
half -past nine off in the Woods' waggonette (how is
the beast of a word spelt ?) to the Mark's Tey station
for Ipswich. Ipswich at eleven. A great British
school, 250 boys, 150 girls, and 150 infants, and the
pupil teachers of these schools to examine. I fell
at once to work with the Standards. My assistant
joined me from London at half-past twelve. I
worked in the Girls' School, with the pupil teachers
on one side the room and the Standards drafted in,
one after the other, on the other side. My assistant
268 TO HIS MOTHER.
in the Boys' and Infants' Schools. I had a per-
petual stream of visitors from the town people in-
terested in the schools. Biscuits and wine were
brought to me where I was, and I never left the
room till four, except for five minutes to run to
a shop and buy a stud I wanted. At four I de-
parted, and reached Copford at half-past five. My
assistant returned to London by the six o'clock
train, and between us we finished that school in the
day. Yesterday off by the same train back to Ips-
wich, took the Wesleyan school, 120 children, and
at half-past one took the train to Hadleigh, getting
a biscuit at the station. Beached Hadleigh at half-
past two. Could get nothing but a taxed cart and
pony, and a half-drunk cripple to drive six miles
by cross country roads to Boxford. Got there at
half-past three. By half-past four had polished
them off only thirty children and was back
at Hadleigh at half-past five. Got to Copford at
half-past seven, in time for an eight o'clock dinner.
This morning off as before. A school of sixty chil-
dren at this little town. Began them at eleven and
finished at one. Have since remained in the school,
receiving visits from the Managers and writing let-
ters, till I leave by the 3.15 train, which will get
me to London at 6.30. Next week I have the same
sort of days throughout, then I return to London,
or rather to Woodf ord, for good. I have left Dicky
behind me at Copford, where they are very kind to
him. I pick him up there next Thursday, and take
him with me to Woodf ord. We have got the Rec-
tory at six guineas a week. You and Fan will see
TO LADY DE ROTHSCHILD. 269
it, for now, of course, you will have to pay your visit
to us only nine miles from the City, and trains
every hour. Read my Part III. 1 in this Macmillan,
and make Edward read it. I have written, to my
own mind, nothing better. Your ever affectionate
M. A.
To Lady de Rothschild.
THE ATHENAEUM, May 10, 1864.
DEAR LADY DE ROTHSCHILD Again and again
I have meant to come and ask after your invalid,
but I just get here, within reach of the Belgravian
paradise, when I am swept back again into the
outer darkness of Fenchurch Street and Essex. For
we are now at the Rectory, Woodford, Essex, the
rector being abroad for his health. How I wish
you would drive down some day to luncheon and
let your invalid breathe the fresh air, and see the
cowslips, which the natives thought were exhausted
in all that neighbourhood, and which I have redis-
covered. We have a garden, and a field, and a
shrubbery, and bees, and cows, and rabbits, and a
dog. I think that is nearly all, but you will allow
it is a long list ; and a large rambling house, ill fur-
nished, but that does not matter at this season of
the year, and its size is a great comfort.
Find time to look at the last part of my French
Eton, with which, after all, I am better pleased
than I generally am with what I write on a subject
I greatly care about. People say it is revolutionary,
but all unconstrained thinking tends, perhaps, to be
i Of A French Eton.
270 TO M. E. GRANT DUFF.
a little revolutionary. Now I am reading the works
of others all the Oxford prize compositions for
this year, and terrible work it is, worse even than
writing one's rubbish. Ever most sincerely yours,
MATTHEW ARNOLD.
To M. E. Grant Duff, M.P.
WOODFORD, May 24, 1864.
MY DEAR GRANT DUFF Thank you for sending
me your notice, 1 but I had already seen it in the
notice-paper, to my great pleasure. As to the im-
portance of calling attention to the general question,
there can be no doubt of that ; but it is well, also,
to take the distinction which you have taken be-
tween liberal and learned education, because this is
one of the things which the public has got into its
head, and one can do most with the public by avail-
ing oneself of one of these things. To give the
means of learning Greek, for instance, but not to
make Greek obligatory, is a proposal, for secondary
education, which half the world are now prepared
to prick up their ears if you make. I am glad you
have employed and given official stamp to that use-
ful word secondary.
I shall come some day and see the honour that
has been done to iny poems. One is from time to
time seized and irresistibly carried along by a
temptation to treat political, or religious, or social
" To call attention to the expediency of making the Sec-
ondary Endowed Schools throughout the country more avail-
able for the purposes of those who wish to give their children
a liberal but not a learned education." May 19, 1864.
TO HIS MOTHER. 271
matters, directly; but after yielding to such a
temptation I always feel myself recoiling again,
and disposed to touch them only so far as they can
be touched through poetry. Ever sincerely yours,
MATTHEW ARNOLD.
To his Mother.
10 ST. GEORGE'S CRESCENT, LLANDUDNO,
August 7, 1864.
My DEAREST MOTHER This is last week's let-
ter, and you shall have another this. Yesterday
morning, instead of writing to you, as I had in-
tended, I started with dear old Tom for the interior
of the country, being sick of lodging-houses and
seaside. We got by rail some four or five miles
on the Llanrwst road, and then struck up a gorge
to the right, where there is a waterfall. After
this drought the waterfall was not much, but we
continued up the valley, which was very austere
and wild, till we got to Llyn Eigiau, or the Lake
of .Shallows, lying under very fine precipices, and
stretching up to the roots of Camedd Llewellyn,
the second highest mountain in Wales, some three
or four hundred feet higher than Scafell. After
sitting a long while by the lake, in loneliness
itself, we came back by another valley, that of
the river Dulyn, which flows from two small
lakes, which we hope to explore on Tuesday. This
mountain mass in which Camedd Llewellyn stands
is very little visited, except the hills just over
Aber, and yesterday we saw not a single tourist,
though here and on all the great lines they swarm.
272 TO HIS MOTHER.
The charm of Wales is the extent of the country
which gives you untouched masses which the tour-
ists do not reach ; and then the new race, language,
and literature give it a charm and novelty which
the Lake country can never have.. Wales is as full
of traditions and associations as Cumberland and
Westmorland are devoid of them. The very sands
we can see from this house, the Lavan Sands, or
Sands of Waiting, between this and Beaumaris,
have more story about them than all the Lake
Country. You may imagine how I like having
dear old Tom with me, and how he enjoys it. He
stays till Thursday. The bathing in the sea is
spoilt by the vile jelly-fish, which sting fright-
fully, and both Budge and I caught it the first day
we were here. They used, I remember, to torment
me at Abergele in old days. But it is the rivers
and lakes of fresh water which my heart desires,
and to these I shall get as much as I can while 1
am here.
This house is clean and comfortable, and the
rooms are good; but lodging and everything else
is very expensive. For our rooms only we have
to pay 7 a week. I should not come here again,
both on this account, and also because I think the
Headland, fine as it is, gets wearisome when one
has nothing else, and I hate to be cut off by a dull
peninsula of some four miles from Conway and the
Mainland.
I have a great deal to tell you. You will see the
newspapers. I hear Goldwin Smith has attacked
me as "a jaunty gentleman" in the Daily News,
TO HJS MOTHER.
273
but I have not seen it. The children all well and
very happy. Your ever most affectionate
M. A.
To the Same.
LLANDUDNO, August 20, 1864.
MY DEAREST MOTHER To-morrow is your
birthday. May you see many more of them, for
the good and happiness of all of us ! I hoped dear
old Tom would have passed the day with me and
helped to keep it, but last night we had a line from
him to say that he and Julia had decided to go to
Clifton. The climate of Clifton at this season is
as bad and oppressive as that of Llandudno is good
and fortifying, and will do Mary * no good at all,
whereas this would have been just the thing for
her. Flu had been indefatigable looking for lodg-
ings for them, but luckily had not actually engaged
anything. Dear old Tom and I should have had
some more walks, and I regret his not coming
exceedingly; and they will probably pay just as
much at Clifton as they would have paid here, only
they will certainly get better rooms for their
money. We have just returned from a delightful
little excursion, on which I should much like to
have taken Fan. Flu had never seen Llanberis, so
the day before yesterday she, I, Dicky, and Lucy
started by train for Carnarvon. The two elder
boys preferred staying at home, or they would
have been the two to go ; but I find Lucy and Dick
are the two real travel-lovers of the family. At
1 Afterwards Mrs. Humphry Ward.
VOL. I. T
274 TO HIS MOTHER.
Carnarvon the children dined at the Uxbridge
Arms, and then began, for me, the real pleasure.
We started in a car, for the railroad ends at Car-
narvon, and drove that beautiful eight miles to
Llanberis. I don't know whether you remember
the sudden change at the half-way house from the
dull fertile flat which borders the sea to Llyn
Padam and the mountains. And such a mountain
as Snowdon is! We have nothing that comes
within a hundred miles of him. We could not
get in at the best inn, the Victoria, so we went to
a new one, the Padam Villa Hotel, which turned
out well enough. The day was perfectly fine and
clear, and having ordered dinner at seven, we went
to that beautiful waterfall on the way up Snow-
don, about half a mile from the hotel. The fall
was beautiful even in this weather, and indeed the
green at Llanberis was as fresh and bright as in
Switzerland, in spite of the drought. The chil-
dren had their tea at one end of the table, while
we had dinner at the other; and then, while Flu
put them to bed, I strolled to the Dolbadam tower,
and had a long look at the two beautiful lakes
and the pass in the moonlight. Next morning
we started at eleven in a carriage and pair for
Llanrwst. A soft gray morning, with a little mist
passing on and off the tops of the highest hills.
Flu enjoyed the pass as much as I could have de-
sired, and indeed it is most impressive; my recol-
lection by no means did it justice. Then by Capel
Curig and the Fall of the Llugwy to that beauti-
ful Bettws y Coed and Llanrwst. At Llanrwst we
TO MISS ARNOLD.
275
dined, and got back here by the train a little after
eight o'clock. The people travelling about in
Wales, and their quality, beggar description. It
is a social revolution which is taking place, and
to observe it may well fill one with reflexion.
Now we are off for Penmaenmawr, which Flu
wants to see. On Wednesday we leave for Liver-
pool, and you shall have notice at what time Budge
and Dick are likely to reach you. How very pleas-
ant to have had all the girls together! My love
to all. Tell dear old Banks to get me some worms,
if he is well enough for that. I have had no fishing
here. Your ever most affectionate M. A.
To Miss Arnold.
LLANDUDNO, Saturday (August 1864).
MY DEAREST FAN I will write niy this week's
letter, and it shall be to you, that I may send you
the photograph of your goddaughter. If ever such
a duck was seen on this earth ! Flu will have told
you that whereas they charge extra for doing chil-
dren of that age, because they are so much trouble
and have to be repeated so often, the whole affair
with Nelly did not take five minutes. She stood
exactly as she was bid, wearing the highly good
face, and was a success the first time. I send you
also one of myself, Maull and Poly bank, that they
have done for their series. It is not good, but per-
haps somewhat less offensive than most that have
been done of me. Now mind you answer this with
a long letter, and tell me in it if you don't think
Nelly looks a duck.
276 TO MISS ARNOLD.
You know my habits, and therefore you can
imagine what it is to me to be chained to the
house, or very near it, by a troublesome toe. In
the first place, a blister came from (I imagine)
boots too tight across the toes ; then this hardened
into a sort of corn, and by trying to get rid of this
I have made a painful place, which has not been
improved by my persisting in walking with dear
old Tom on these hard, hot ways. I have now
taken to wet lint round the toe and nominal absti-
nence from walking. Yesterday, however, I was
for three hours and a half on the Great Orme, most
of it with bare feet, however, and this evening I
shall manage to get an hour or two there. But
what is this when I see Camedd Llewellyn oppo-
site to me, and all the hills steeped in an ethereal
Italian atmosphere that makes one long to be
amongst them? Till yesterday I have thought
this place bleak and harsh; and still I miss rivers
and green fields, and would rather be at a Welsh
farm among the mountains. However, this suits
the children best. But yesterday brought an air
and sun which perfectly transfigured the place.
The poetry of the Celtic race and its names of
places quite overpowers me, and it will be long
before Tom forgets the line, " Hear from thy grave,
great Taliessin, hear!" from Gray's Bard, of
which I gave him the benefit some hundred times a
day on our excursions. We all liked having him,
and he liked being here, and I think in a week
will come back with Gertie and Mary. All inter-
ests are here Celts, Romans, Saxons, Druidism,
TO J. DYKES CAMPBELL. 277
Middle Age, Caer, Castle, Cromlech, Abbey,
and this glorious sea and mountains with it all.
I am perfectly idle, or at least I study only Mur-
ray's Hand- Book (excellent) and the Ordnance
Map. There are One or two people here : the Lid-
dells, with whom we dined; the Scudamore Stan-
hopes, him I slightly knew at Oxford; the Dean
of Chichester, a clergyman or two, who have
called. We go to Susy, as I told mamma; and to
you, I hope, this day fortnight. Budge says he
does not care for this place much, but shall like
coming to Fox How "awfully." I think we shall
go to the Forsters at the end of our time about
the 1st of October for two or three days on our
way back to London.. I have had a second letter
from Bruce l thanking me in the most flattering
manner for my suggestions as to the personnel of
the Commission, and now asking me for my opin-
ion as to the scope which shall be given to the
inquiry. I would sooner write in this way than
be stuck personally forward in fifty Commissions.
My love to everybody. Your ever affectionate
M. A.
To J. DyJces Campbell.
Fox How, September 22, 1864.
I am much tempted to say something about the
Enoch Arden volume. I agree with you in think-
ing " Enoch Arden " itself very good indeed per-
haps the best thing Tennyson has done; "Titho-
nus " I do not like quite so well. But is it possible
1 Vice-President of the Council ; afterwards Lord Aberdare.
278 TO LADY DE ROTHSCHILD.
for one who has himself published verses to print
a criticism on Tennyson in which perfect freedom
shall be used? And without perfect freedom, what
is a criticism worth? I do not think Tennyson a
great and powerful spirit in any line as Goethe
was in the line of modern thought, Wordsworth in
that of contemplation, Byron even in that of pas-
sion; and unless a poet, especially a poet at this
time of day, is that, my interest in him is only
slight, and my conviction that he will not finally
stand high is firm. But is it possible or proper for
me to say this about Tennyson, when my saying
it would inevitably be attributed to odious mo-
tives? Therefore, though the temptation to speak
especially because I should probably say some-
thing so totally different from what the writer in
the Spectator supposes is great, I shall probably
say nothing.
To Lady de Rothschild.
Fox How, AMBLESIDE,
September, 25, 1864.
Mr DEAR LADY DE ROTHSCHILD I have just
come back from the Highlands, where no letters
followed me, and I find here yours of last month,
with its enclosure. It was just like you to send
the Cornhill to Disraeli, and then to send me his
letter. It 1 was the kind of article he was most
likely to be taken by, and therefore excellently,
and with your usual tact, chosen. I shall keep
his letter unless you tell me you want it back. I
1 "The Literary Influence of Academies."
TO LADY DE ROTHSCHILD.
279
saw Sir Anthony was at the Agricultural Meeting
to hear him speak the other day, and wondered
whether you were there too.
So you have been in the Saxon Switzerland and
at Prague ! I should, of course, have enjoyed the
Saxon Switzerland with you and your party, but I
do not greatly care for it in itself; but Prague I
have never seen, and have the greatest possible
desire to see. But at present I am full of the
Highlands, which I had never seen till this year,
except a glimpse of the outskirts of them which I
got when a boy of eight years old. I have been up
in Ross-shire, and a more impressive country I
never saw. After being used to this Lake country,
over which you could throw a pocket-handkerchief,
the extent of the Highlands gives a sense of vast-
ness; and then the desolation, which in Switzer-
land, with the meadows, industry, and population
of the valleys, one never has; but in the High-
lands, miles and miles and miles of mere heather
and peat and rocks, and not a soul. And then the
sea comes up into the land on the west coast, and
the mountain forms are there quite magnificent.
Norway alone, I imagine, has country like it.
Then also I have a great penchant for the Celtic
races, with their melancholy and unprogressive-
ness. I fished a great deal, and that is a distrac-
tion of the first order. You should make Sir
Anthony take a lodge up there for two or three
years. There is no such change, and no such
delightful sort of shooting, and the lodges are as
comfortable as London houses. And think of the
280 TO LADY DE ROTHSCHILD.
blessing you and your daughters would be to the
Highland cabins round you!
If you have an opportunity, I wish you would
ask some of your Frankfort relations to try and
get a fragment of Goethe's handwriting. I am
not a collector, but the other day I had a poem of
Wordsworth's in his own handwriting given me,
and I should like to have something of Goethe's as
a pendant to it. They are the two moderns (very
different) I most care for. There is an excellent
article on Wordsworth in this last North British.
Bead it by all means. For my part, I have been
idle "as a brute," as Victor Hugo says, and I have
done nothing of all I meant to do. I have been
very much pressed to write a criticism on Tenny-
son, apropos of his new volume; but is this pos-
sible to be done with the requisite freedom by any
one who has published verses himself? I mean,
for instance, I do not think Tennyson a grand et
puissant esprit, and therefore I do not really set
much store by him, in spite of his popularity; but
is it possible for me to say this? I think not.
My kindest regards to your daughters. Yours
ever most sincerely, MATTHEW ARNOLD.
To the Same.
BRITISH AND FOREIGN SCHOOL SOCIETY,
BOROUGH ROAD, LONDON,
October 14, 1864.
MY DEAR LADY DE ROTHSCHILD If I were
not obliged to be here I should come and see you
to-day, though I daresay I should find you fled to
TO LADY DE ROTHSCHILD. 281
the country. Aston Clinton is always pleasant,
but never so pleasant as when you are by your-
selves; but next week I am hopelessly tied and
bound two days here, and three in the north of
Essex. But I am so worried with work of differ-
ent kinds that I should be very bad company even
if my schools left me free. I have a bad time
before me all up to Christmas. At the beginning
of the year I am not without hopes of being sent
abroad by the new Middle Class Schools Commis-
sion. But let me know some day when you will
be in town, and I will come and see you at lunch-
eon. Might we not, some day before the terrible
reign of Pantomimes begins, go to some theatre?
something franchement comique this time. I
hear Charles Mathews is in some new piece which
is very good. You see I am ingenious in invent-
ing palliatives to the hard destiny which keeps me
from Aston Clinton. My kindest regards to your
daughters and niece. I hope I shall see the latter
when I come to luncheon (if you. will let me) in
Grosvenor Place ; let it be before she goes back to
Vienna. I hope croquet is now played at Aston
Clinton with one hand. .1 must go back to my
charming occupation of hearing students give les-
sons. Here is my programme for this afternoon:
Avalanches The Steam Engine The Thames
India Rubber Bricks The Battle of Poic-
tiers Subtraction The Reindeer The Gun-
powder Plot The Jordan. Alluring, is it not?
Twenty minutes each, and the days of one's life
are only threescore years and ten. Ever yours
sincerely, MATTHEW ARNOLD.
282 TO HIS MOTHER.
To his Mother.
THE ATHEN^UM, December 7, 1864.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I must write a very
hurried letter if this is to go to-day. I have been
correcting proofs, and been so long over a note I
have to put in that I have left myself hardly any
time. When you wrote you had probably not
seen the Saturday Review, which contains a long,
elaborate attack on me, of nearly four columns. 1
It is by Fitz james Stephen, and is due partly to his
being Colenso's advocate, partly also to his ideas
being naturally very antagonistic to mine. He
meant to be as civil as he could, consistently with
attacking me au fond; and yesterday he sent his
wife to call, as a proof, I suppose, that he wishes
amity. He begins, too, with a shower of polite
expressions. His complaint that I do not argue
reminds me of dear old Edward, who always says
when any of his family do not go his way, that
they do not reason. However, my sinuous, easy,
unpolemical mode of proceeding has been adopted
by me first because I really think it the best way
of proceeding if one wants to get at, and keep
with, truth; secondly, because I am convinced
only by a literary form of this kind being given
to them can ideas such as mine ever gain any
access in a country such as ours. So from any-
thing like a direct answer, or direct controversy,
1 "Mr. Matthew Arnold and his Countrymen," Saturday Re-
view, December 3, 1864; criticising M. A.'s " Function of Criti-
cism at the present time," which appeared in the National
Review, November 1864.
TO MRS. FORSTER. 283
I shall religiously abstain; but here and there I
shall take an opportunity of putting back this and
that matter into its true light, if I think he has
pulled them out of it; and I have the idea of a
paper for the Cornhill, about March, to be called
"My Countrymen," and in which I may be able
to say a number of things I want to say, about
the course of this Middle Class Education matter
amongst others. Mr. Wright, the translator of
Homer, has printed a letter of attack upon my
Homer lectures, but it is of no consequence.
Your ever affectionate M. A.
To Mrs. Forster.
THE ATHENAEUM, January 3, 1865.
MY DEAREST K. I send you the enclosed,
because I know you and William will be inter-
ested. Lord Lyttelton is a gruff man, who says
less than he means generally, so his "strongly
approving" is very strong. 1 I wrote to him
because I would not for the world have asked
William, connected as we are, to start the matter
in the Commission; besides, Lord Lyttelton knew
what had passed about it in the last Commission;
but now, when Lord Taunton brings the matter
before the Commission and reads my letter, I
daresay William will support it. I think I have
made out a strong case for sending some one, and
1 Lord Lyttelton was a member of the Schools Inquiry Com-
mission, at whose instance Matthew Arnold undertook, in 1865,
a foreign tour, to inquire into the Secondary Education of the
Continent.
284 TO MRS. FORSTER.
perhaps even the Anti-State Members of the
Commission will be willing enough to collect
information as to State systems. I must talk to
William before the Commission meets, because I
think some one should go to America also. France,
Germany, Switzerland, Lombardy, and the United
States of America are the important countries.
Holland is said to be still, as it was in Cuvier's
time, not up, in its middle class schools, to the
mark of its primary schools.
Walter will have told you about Temple. It is
like him thus to try and take a question by force.
I had mentioned him to Bruce as a man who cer-
tainly ought to be on the Commission, i/he could be
there without offence to the private schoolmasters.
Did you notice what Bazley l said about the edu-
cation of his own class at Manchester some weeks
ago, and what Bright said yesterday, and the dif-
ference? I note all these things, however slight,
with interest.
Is not Macmillan's new Shakespeare wonderful?
He is going to bring out a large paper edition,
which I will give you on your next birthday.
Text and punctuation seem to me excellent.
I am afraid, as the Commission does not meet for
some weeks, William will not come up much before
Parliament meets. I have some wonderful St.
Peray Edward gave me, waiting for him. I have
had a blinding cold, but it is better. Kiss all your
darlings for me, and love to William. Your ever
affectionate M. A.
1 Sir Thomas Bazley, M.P. for Manchester.
TO MRS. FOKSTEK. 285
To the Same.
THE ATHENAEUM, January 6 (1865).
MY DEAREST K. How long will William be in
town when he comes up for the meeting 1 on the
24th? Will he dine with us on that day ? I wish
him well through his speech. 2 I am being driven
furious by seven hundred closely-written grammar
papers, which I have to look over, and an obstinate
cold in my head at the same time.
American example is perhaps likely to make most
impression on England, though I doubt even this
just now. (The students in the Training Colleges
had for their composition this year to write a
letter from an English emigrant to the United
States describing the state of things there, and
there is not really 1 per cent who does not take the
strongest possible side for the Confederates, and
you know from what class these students are
drawn.) However, the subject being secondary
instruction, an instruction in direct correspondence
with higher instruction and intellectual life, I can-
not admit that any countries are more worth study-
ing, as regards secondary instruction, than those in
which intellectual life has been carried farthest
Germany first, and, in the second degree, France.
Indeed, I am convinced that as Science, in the
widest sense of the word, meaning a true knowl-
edge of things as the basis of our operations, becomes,
as it does become, more of a power in the world,
the weight of the nations and men who have carried
1 Of the Schools Inquiry Commission.
2 On general politics ; at Bradford, January 10, 1865.
286 TO HIS MOTHER.
the intellectual life farthest will be more and more
felt; indeed, I see signs of this already. That
England may run well in this race is my deepest
desire; and to stimulate her and to make her
feel how many clogs she wears, and how much
she has to do in order to run in it as her genius
gives her the power to run, is the object of all I do.
Your ever affectionate M. A.
To his Mother.
EDUCATION DEPARTMENT, COUNCIL OFFICE,
DOWNING STREET, LONDON,
January 21, 1865.
MY DEAREST MOTHER Again I am at the very
end of the week, but you will get my letter on Sun-
day morning, a morning on which it is always
pleasant to have letters. My Essays are nearly
printed, but they have taken a long time, and till
I have finally got the Preface to stand as I like, I
shall not feel that the book * is off my hands. The
Preface will make you laugh. I see the Noncon-
formist, Miall's paper, of all papers in the world,
has this week an article on Provinciality, and speaks
of me as " a writer, who, by the power both of his
thoughts and of his style, is beginning to attract
great attention." And the new number of the
Quarterly has a note speaking of my " beautiful
essay on Marcus Aurelius," and urging me to trans-
late Epictetus, so as to make him readable by all
the world. So I think the moment is, on the whole,
favourable for the Essays; and in going through
1 Essays in Criticism. 1865.
TO LADY DE ROTHSCHILD. 287
them I am struck by the admirable riches of human
nature that are brought to light in the group of
persons of whom they treat, and the sort of unity
that as a book to stimulate the better humanity in
us the volume has. Then, of course, if this book
succeeds, the way is the more clear for my bringing
in my favourite notions yet further ; if I can only, as
Marcus Aurelius says, keep " the balance true, and
my mind even.' 7 If I can do Vinet to my mind it
will be a great thing, and I shall have reached the
Dissenters and the Middle Class ; then I shall stop
for the present.
's speech was, as you say, good in style, and
with much of what he puts forth I agree. He,
however, with his liking for the United States and
all that, always tends to foster the pure English
element in us, as I think, to excess. I hate all
over-preponderance of single elements, and all my
efforts are directed to enlarge and complete us by
bringing in as much . as possible of Greek, Latin,
Celtic authors. More and more I see hopes of
fruit by steadily working in this direction. To be
too much with the Americans is like living with
somebody who has all one's own bad habits and
tendencies. My love to Fan, and to Rowland, and
to Banks. Your ever affectionate M. A.
To Lady de Rothschild.
THE ATHENAEUM, February 11 (1865).
MY DEAR LADY DE ROTHSCHILD I shook my
head disapprovingly when I saw your handwriting
this morning, though, of course, I could not help
288 TO HIS MOTHER.
reading the contents with pleasure and satisfaction ;
but I do hope you will go slowly, and not overtask
yourself. I had read the Preface * to a brother and
sister of mine, ana they received it in such solemn
silence that I began to tremble ; then is always
thrown into a nervous tremor by my writing any-
thing which she thinks likely to draw down attacks
on me ; so altogether I needed the refreshment of
your sympathy. I am amused at having already
received a note from Arthur Stanley asking for the
reference to the passages in Spinoza which militate
against his view of the prophets.
I write this at the Athenaeum, having been both
morning and afternoon at the Free School. The
Baroness Lionel was there in the morning. What
an awful morning it was ! The attendance of
children was immense, in spite of the day. I
complained of the girls chattering and looking at
one another's work incessantly, but they were so
crowded that their sins in this respect ought not,
perhaps, to be judged too severely.
I hope it will not be very long before I see you
again. Meanwhile pray take all possible care of
yourself, and believe me, with the most cordial
regards to your daughters, ever sincerely yours,
MATTHEW ARNOLD.
To his Mother.
THE ATHEN^UM, March 3, 1865.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I am late this week
again, but now my lecture is coming near, and the
1 To Essays in Criticism.
TO HIS MOTHER. 289
mass I have been led into reading for it oppresses
me and still keeps swelling. However, to-morrow I
hope to fairly begin and write. It must be in the
morning, as in the afternoon I have promised to go
with the children to the Zoological Gardens. On
Monday night I go with Flu, Tom, and Dick, to
the Haymarket to see Lord Dundreary and other
things, and on Wednesday poor Dick returns to
school. It is time he went, as he is now quite
well again ; but we shall miss him awfully, and he
has that slight look of delicacy which just makes
one shrink from sending him away. But I believe
the change of air to Blackheath will do him great
service. He is perfectly good, and as happy as the
day is long. Little Torn is, for him, all right, as
you will judge from his going to the play. We
have had a tolerable allowance of sickness this win-
ter, and I should like to leave them all sound and
nourishing. I have heard as yet nothing officially,
but William says my going is as good as settled.
Jane dined with us last night and told us so.
I hear my book is doing very well. The Spectator
is very well, but the article has Button's fault of
seeing so very far into a millstone. No one has a
stronger and more abiding sense than I have of the
" daemonic " element as Goethe called it which
underlies and encompasses our life ; but I think, as
Goethe thought, that the right thing is, while con-
scious of this element, and of all that there is in-
explicable round one, to keep pushing on one's posts
into the darkness, and to establish no post that is
not perfectly in light and firm. One gains nothing
VOL. i. y
290 TO MISS QUILLINAN.
on the darkness by being, like Shelley, as incoherent
as the darkness itself.
The North British has an excellent article, treat-
ing my critical notions at length and very ably.
They object to my " vivacities," and so on, but then
it is a Scotchman who writes. The best justification
of the Preface is the altered tone of the Saturday.
I say nothing about dear Mary except to send her
my love with all my heart. Love to dear Fan too.
Your ever affectionate M. A.
To Miss QuilUnan. 1
March 8, 1865.
MY DEAR Miss QUILLINAN I was puzzled by
your letter, for, I am sorry to say, the volume of
my Essays did not come from me. The book is
Macmillan's, not mine, as my Poems were, and I
have had so few copies at my own disposal that
they have not even sufficed to go the round of my
own nearest relations, to whom I have always been
accustomed to send what I write.
But I have just learned that the book was sent to
you by my mother, and that removes the gift not so
very far from myself. I hope you will find the Es-
says, or some of them, at any rate, pleasant reading.
We have had a bad winter poor little Tom very
ill, and most of the others more or less unwell, one
after the other. And as the unwellness of Dicky
and Nelly had a rash along with it, people uttered
the horrible word scarlatina, though it was nothing
of the kind, gave us a great fright, and caused our
1 Elder daughter of Edward Quillinan of Rydal, commemo-
rated in Poems, 1853.
TO HIS MOTHER. 291
house to be regarded with suspicion for weeks.
However, all that is at last over, and to-morrow
all the children are going to a party, which will
show you there cannot be much the matter. Nelly
looks like a little country boy in petticoats, but she
is beginning to show an anxiety about dress which
is truly feminine. Dicky has been kept away from
school by his rash, but on Monday he returns.
They all send their love, and so does Fanny Lucy,
to you and Rotha. I am expecting to be sent
abroad by this new School Commission, but that
will not, I hope, prevent me from being in Sep-
tember at Fox How as usual. Ever most sincerely
yours, MATTHEW ARNOLD.
To his Mother.
THE ATHENAEUM, March 11, 1865.
MY DEAREST MOTHER It is settled that I go
abroad. I got the Commissioners' letter on Thurs-
day morning, got Lord Granville's consent last
night, and this morning I have sent in my formal
letter of acceptance to the Commissioners. It is an
eight months' affair at least, the pay is to last
eight months. I have got leave of absence for six
months, and the report I must write while going on
with my schools as usual. I start on the 3rd of
April. Of course, I do not like leaving Flu and the
children, but it is a great satisfaction to me, as you
and Fan will well know, to be going on this errand.
You know how deeply the Continent interests me,
and I have here an opportunity of seeing at com-
parative leisure, and with all possible facilities
292 TO LADY DE ROTHSCHILD
given me, some of the most important concerns of
the most powerful and interesting States of the
Continent. It is exactly what I wanted. I did not
want to be a Commissioner, I did not want to be
Secretary, but I did want to go abroad, and to
Germany as well as France.
There is a long letter in to-day's Examiner from
"Presbyter Anglicanus," 1 gravely arguing that I
have done him injustice, and that he does under-
stand a joke. I have sent my book to Keble. He
sent me his Lectures. 2 I have also sent it to New-
man 3 "From one of his old hearers." 4 Your
ever affectionate M. A.
To Lady de Rothschild.
(March 25, 1865.)
MY DEAR LADY DE ROTHSCHILD A thousand
thanks, and will you not also give me a line to one
of your family at Frankfort, where I shall certainly
go, and to Madame Alphonse de Rothschild (your
niece Julie, is it not) ? I should like to see her
again, if she is at Nice or Geneva when I am there ;
and, having only seen me once, she would probably,
if I presented myself without a fresh introduction,
require me to dediner myself at length, which I hate.
And I should be sorry to be at Frankfort without
seeing your niece Clementina, if she is there.
There is some little difficulty at the Council
Office, at the last moment, about my going. I
1 Satirised in the original Preface to Essays in Criticism.
2 The Rev. John Keble was Professor of Poetry at Oxford
1831-1842. s Afterwards Cardinal Newman.
* At St. Mary's Church, Oxford.
TO LADY DE ROTHSCHILD. 293
have no doubt, however, of its all being settled as
I wish. But I shall not go quite so soon as I at
first intended, so is it not just possible I may see
you on your way back ? Not that you had not
much better stay at Torquay every moment you
can ; and to-day it is raining, and this horrible and
never-to-be-enough-abused east wind is, I hope,
doomed. I can hardly imagine any walks, even
walks with your daughters, not suffering some loss
of delightfulness by this wind blowing upon one
while one takes them.
Mr. Lowe's examination before Sir John Paking-
ton's Committee, which is sitting to examine into
the working of our office, is said to have been most
amusing. It lasted all yesterday, and he comported
himself en vrai enfant terrible) insulted poor Sir
John Pakington so that there was quite a scene,
and took such a line about the Council Office that
his hostile cross-examination had to come from Mr.
Bruce, his own friend and successor, who man-
aged it, I hear, extremely well. Nothing could be
cleverer than Mr. Lowe's present exhibitions, and
nothing more indiscreet, I should think, as far as
concerns his chance of office.
I am afraid your good-will makes you exaggerate
the favour my book finds, but, at any rate, it seems
doing better than anything of mine has yet done.
Think of me as its author or not, just as you like,
only do not forget me.
My very kind remembrances to your daughters
and to Miss Molique. Yours ever most sincerely,
M. A.
294 TO LADY DE ROTHSCHILD.
To the Same.
THE ATHENAEUM, April 3, 1865.
MY DEAR LADY DE ROTHSCHILD You left out
the word " week," and said you thought of coming
up " to-morrow/' so, though I thought yjou were
giving yourself too little time at Torquay, I called
on Saturday, about two o'clock, in Grosvenor Place,
and though nothing was known there about your
movements, I came to the conclusion that as you
did not arrive last Friday, and must be home by
the 10th, it must be next Friday that you are com-
ing. Very many thanks for the two notes.
On Saturday morning I start, so I shall hardly,
I am afraid, see you again. I have had so much to
arrange before going, and the break-up is so great,
that I shall now be glad when I am off ; and when
I see the chestnut leaves coming out in the Tui-
leries gardens under the April weather, I have no
doubt I shall again feel the charm and stir of travel
again, as I did when I was young. At present I
feel dull'and listless about it.
I should like to have talked to you about some
of the notices of my Essays. I think if I republish
the book I shall leave out some of the preface and
notes, as being too much of mere temporary matter ;
about this too I should like to have talked to
you. I shall often think of you, and perhaps may
inflict a letter upon you some day or other. My
kindest adieux to you and to your companions.
Yours ever most sincerely,
MATTHEW ARNOLD.
TO HIS MOTHER. 295
Do not forget to look at my little girl's picture l
in the Exhibition of this year.
To his Mother.
HOTEL MEURICE, PARIS, April 12, 1865.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I thought it possible I
might hear from you to-day, but I daresay you are
not yet clear as to the place where I have estab-
lished myself. I am in my old quarters, in rooms
that join the rooms where I was with Flu and the
children six years ago, on the third floor, bedroom
and sitting-room next one another, and the windows
of both looking over the Tuileries gardens. I
started in fine weather, had a splendid passage, and
have had cloudless skies and a hot sun ever since.
But there is something of east in the wind, which
makes the weather, to me, anything but agreeable,
and a great number of people are ill with influenza ;
for myself, I am bilious and out of sorts, and long
for west winds and a little moisture. But the effect
of the sun in bringing on the spring change is won-
derful. When we got here on Saturday evening
the trees in the Tuileries gardens were quite black
and bare. One chestnut tree that always comes
out before the rest had a little green on it on Sun-
day, but now the whole garden has burst into leaf,
and has a look of shelter and softness in spite of
the vile wind. I miss Flu and the children dread-
fully, as you may suppose, though this weather
1 A crayon drawing of his elder daughter, by Lowes Dickin-
son.
296 TO HIS MOTHER.
would suit none of them ; still they would so like
to be here, and I should so like to see them. The
shops are splendid. The new buildings I only half
like. They make Paris, which used to be the most
historical place in the world, one monotonous hand-
somer Belgravia. To be sure there are a great many
nooks into which the improvements have not pene-
trated, but all that most catches the eye has been
rebuilt or made uniform. There is a barrack, mean
and poor as any building in England, on the other
side the Seine, just opposite this hotel, where there
used to be one of the most irregular picturesque
groups of houses possible. And then I cannot get
over their having pulled down the true cock-hatted
Napoleon from the pillar in the Place Vendome,
and put up instead a sort of false Eoman emperor
figure in imperial robes. But the shops are splen-
did, and for show, pleasure, and luxury this place
is, and every day more and more, the capital of
Europe ; and as Europe gets richer and richer, and
show, pleasure, and luxury are more and more
valued, Paris will be more and more important,
and more and more the capital of Europe.
I have had my nephew Star Benson 1 with me
till last night; he was on his way to a tutor at
Geneva. He had much rather have stayed here,
poor boy, but last night after dinner I drove with
him to the Lyons station, took his ticket for Geneva,
and saw him off, or at least saw him into the
waiting-room, which is as far as they will let you
follow a friend. Now I am alone. I have not yet
1 Eldest son of General Benson. See p. 42.
TO HIS MOTHER. 297
been to the theatre, but with the horrid 5.30 table
d'hdte one is almost driven to go there, but I do not
care for it as I once did. I get up early in the
morning, and work as if I was at home, but I have
not yet got my habits at all settled. Flu is so fond
of seeing things and going here and there that I
have got to wait for her impulsion before I go any-
where, except on business errands. This morning
I have been to the Embassy to settle about having
my letters sent, and since then I have paid a long
visit to Guizot, who is going to start me in this
inquiry, as he did in the last. When once I get to
work I shall do very well. Presently I am going
to call on Mme. Mohl, then to call on Fanny du
Quaire, then to dine by myself, between seven and
eight, at a cafe. Then, probably, to Galignani's to
read the papers, and then, after a turn in the
Champs Elysees, to bed. Will you send to Flu
Edward's Murray for Central Italy and Florence?
I know he has it, and will lend it me ; tell him so
when you write to him. I am going to see Sainte
Beuve to-morrow, and also to-morrow I am going
to the Ministry of Public Instruction. I shall be
glad this time year, if all goes well, to have made
this expedition ; but this is all I can say at present,
while I think of poor Dicky's despair at the thought
of my being away in his Easter holidays, and at
the way they will all miss me. Write to me here.
Even Westmorland must be disagreeable in this
east wind, but I had rather be there than in the
Eue de Eivoli. I will try and write to you once
every ten days, at least. My love to Fan, and to
298 TO HIS WIFE.
Walter, who I suppose is with you. I hope he
brought Rowland her umbrella all right, and that
she liked it. Your ever affectionate M. A.
To his Wife.
HOTEL MEURICE, April 13, 1865.
You are quite right in saying I am not enjoying
myself. ... I have sometimes thought of putting
myself into the train and coming back to you for
this next week, when the schools will be keeping
holiday, and if I was not hampered by a dinner
engagement I think I should.
I was up early, and worked away at my lecture
till eleven, then I went down and breakfasted, and
afterwards to the Embassy and saw Lord Cowley's
private secretary, about my letters and packets.
Then to Guizot's, and he has promised to give me
directions for this mission, as he did for the last.
He complimented me much on the belle etude which
I had made on the primary instruction of France.
Then I came back here and wrote to mamma, and
read ; then about three I went to Mme. Mohl's, and
I must say it did me good to be received with such
cordiality as she showed.
Tell that darling Lucy that in the Tuileries gar-
dens yesterday I and a great many other people
stopped to see an old man who knew how to say
some words which made the beautiful blue pigeons
come flying down from the trees and settle on his
wrist and shoulders, and then, as he said something
more, one after another picked grains of corn out
TO HIS WIFE. 299
of his mouth as regularly as possible, never getting
in each other's way, and making way for one an-
other as he told them. This morning I went to
Rapet's, and with him to the Minister's. The
Secretary-General and the Minister himself gave
me a most flattering reception, and will furnish me
with all the letters I want without waiting for
Lord Cowley's official letter. Then to the Sorbonne,
where I was presented to the Rector of the Uni-
versity of Paris; he too was ve'ry civil. By this
time I was a good deal beat, for I have again
nearly lost my voice, so I got into a carriage and
drove to the Palais Royal for lunch. I walked
back, and have written this, and now I must go
and call on Sainte Beuve.
To the Same.
PARIS, April 27, 1865.
I have had, as I thought I should, rather a
struggle to get leave to be present at any of the
lessons. They wanted me to be co"ntent with going
over the buildings, and having a statement of what
was done. However, I persisted, and I believe
they will let me do what I want ; but it is a great
favour. It is curious how different is the consider-
ation shown to these schools from that which is
shown to the elementary schools. There the In-
spector goes in whenever he likes, and takes who-
ever he likes with him ; but in these tycees I have
to go by myself, because the authorities do not like
the Inspector appearing a second time after he has
once made his inspection, and the Minister does
300 TO HIS WIFE.
not like offending the authorities! I go to. the
lycee of St. Louis to-morrow.
The Cowleys have again asked me to dinner ; it
is for this next Sunday, and I am going. To-
morrow I dine with the Scherers at Versailles, and
shall meet some of the Journal des Debats set.
What tremendous news this is about Lincoln ! l
As they have infringed the Constitution so much
already, it is a pity Grant, for his own sake, cannot
go a little further and get rid of such an incubus
as Johnson. If Lincoln had been killed two years
ago it would have been an immense loss to the
North, but now he has done his work. All the
recent matters have raised America in one's esti-
mation, I think, and even this assassination brings
into their history something of that dash of the
tragic, romantic, and imaginative, which it has had
so little of. /Sic semper tyrannis 2 is so unlike any-
thing Yankee or English middle class, both for
bad and good.
Kiss my little girls my darling little girls a
thousand times.
To the Same.
HOTEL MEURICE, PARIS,
April 30, 1865.
I do not feel quite certain that little Tom will
not be more reconciled to school by the end of the
week. If he does not, however, I suppose you can-
not come to Italy. In that case you must really
come here for a week.
1 President Lincoln was assassinated April 14, 1865.
2 The exclamation of the assassin.
TO HIS WIFE. 301
Paris is very beautiful just now more beauti-
ful than you have ever seen it ; and we will go for
a couple of days to Fontainebleau', and pass five days
together here, and you can get all you want. I really
think this is the best plan you can do if you do not
come to Italy. The evening of the day you return
to England I shall go to Italy, and when I am in
movement I shall feel less. Every one says Italy
is so fearfully hot, that perhaps travelling rapidly
about might be too much for you.
I am beginning to have a great deal to do, and to
have a great many invitations. To-night I dine at
the Embassy, and go to the Princesse Mathilde
afterwards. Her salon is the best in Paris, for she
has all the clever men as well as the Court circle.
It was very pleasant at Circourt's last night; no
one but he, I, and Waddington; . . . ,and the
Bruyeres, Circourt's place, is quite beautiful on the
high, wild, wooded ground between St. Cloud and
St. Germain. We had coffee out in the grounds
afterwards, and the nightingales were overpower-
ing. Circourt gave us a model of a hermit's din-
ner, as he called it : very simple, but everything in
perfection. He goes to a watering-place in the Black
Forest on Wednesday, I am sorry to say. The day
before I dined with the Scherers at Versailles;
Scherer is one of the most interesting men I have
seen in France. If you see the Bowyers tell them
I saw Monsignore Chigi yesterday the Papal
Nuncio ; he is charming, and has done for me
everything I wanted. I am going to see the Pere
Felix on Wednesday, so I shall have plenty of the
302 TO HIS MOTHER.
Roman Catholic side. Did I tell you that I was
introduced to Mme. de Boissy, Byron's Mme. Guic-
cioli, on Thursday 'night? She asked me to go to
her house on Friday, but I was too late home from
Versailles not till twelve o'clock. The brilliant
green of the whole valley of the Seine, with the
bright white houses amongst it, is quite Southern.
I had no notion this could be so beautiful. To-
morrow I was asked to dine at Mme. de Blocque-
ville's, Davoust's daughter, of whom I told you ; but
I dine with F. you know how hospitable she is.
On Tuesday I dine with Milsand, one of the Revue
des Deux Mondes set. After that I shall make no
engagement for the evening till I hear what you
will do. They behave excellently to me at the
lyceeSj but their morning hours for their classes
eight to ten are rather trying.
I had such a dear note from Dick.
To his Mother.
PARIS, May 1, 1865.
MY DEAREST MOTHER Here is a dull first of
May, but the clouds are very pleasant after so much
hot sun. I have been a little out of sorts since
I came back, and certainly have never cared so little
for Paris ; but I have now got plenty to do, and while
that is so, one is at least preserved from low spirits.
It was six years since I had been here, and the two
salons which I most frequented formerly have dis-
appeared ; but one soon re-knits one's relations in a
place like this, and I am beginning to find it very
hard to get an evening to myself for the theatre;
TO HIS MOTHER.
303
and the theatre here, both for acting and for a study
of the language, is just what the English theatre is
not, where the acting is detestable, and the mode
of speaking is just what one ought not to adopt.
On Friday I dined with the Scherers at Versailles.
He is one of the most interesting men in France,
and I think I have told you of him. He called his
youngest boy Arnold, after papa, and a very nice
boy, of about nine, he is. Scherer has made a pil-
grimage to Fox How, and saw some of the family,
but not you. He interests me, from his connexion
with Vinet, who has been occupying me a good deal
lately ; but he belongs now to the most advanced
school among the French Protestants, and is a good
deal troubled, I imagine, both from without and from
within. At his house I met several of the writers
in the Journal des Debats. Sainte Beuve, who is
just made a senator, called for me at half-past ten,
and took me to the Princesse Mathilde's. She
received me very kindly, and said she knew that in
my knowledge of France and the French language
and literature I was a " Franqais " ; to which I
replied that I had read the writings of M. Sainte
Beuve, he being a great protege of hers. The
Prince Napoleon was there, and a quantity of
official and diplomatic people, also several literary
notabilities, but none I cared very much for. The
house, which formerly was Queen Christina's, is
magnificent. To-day I am going to the Institute,
to work an hour or so in the library, and then to
the College Louis le Grand, to hear some lessons.
I have seen the Papal Nuncio, who is charming,
304 TO MISS ARNOLD.
and he has given me letters which will enable me
to see the schools of the Jesuits, where the French
Minister's letter avails me nothing. I have just
seen an American, a great admirer of mine, who
says that the three people he wanted to see in
Europe were James Martineau, Herbert Spencer,
and myself. His talk was not as our talk, but he
was a good man. He says that my Essays are
already reprinted and published in America, and
that I shall get something for them, but we shall
see. I hope Flu, who has decided that she cannot
come to Italy, will join me for a week here. We
shall go to Fontainebleau together, and that will be
very pleasant. I shall hardly get away from here
for a fortnight or ten days to come, so write to me
here. My love to Fan. Your ever most affection-
ate M. A.
To Miss Arnold.
PARIS, May 14, 1865.
MY DEAREST FAN I was delighted with your
letter to me, and I would a thousand times rather
be at Fox How at this moment than here ; indeed,
I have never cared for Paris so little, and the work
I have to do, though interesting, is very harassing.
We went down to Fontainebleau on Thursday even-
ing, as I had a school to see in the neighbourhood.
We drove about a little, and then came back to
Paris. I had hoped to get off to-morrow night
myself, after seeing Flu off in the morning for
England, but I cannot. On Wednesday night, how-
ever, I hope to be off for certain. I have had to
get rid of all my promises of articles for reviews
TO MISS ARNOLD. 305
and magazines, for I am too much distracted to
write anything that satisfies me. But if I live and
come back, and get my report off my hands, I will
fall to with a will. I dined with the Princesse
Mathilde on Wednesday. Sainte Beuve, who has
just been made a senator, was there ; but the party
was not otherwise interesting. She receives to-
night, but I shall not leave Flu to go there. If
one is in a place only at very rare intervals, to see
people is all one much cares for; to knit close
relations with them is not worth while attempting.
Indeed, it is impossible. I was much interested
by Lowe's speech on Reform. 1 I think I told you
that what I saw of him in coming to Paris and
going back to London struck me greatly. I found
a side in him I did not know was there. I see by
extracts from the Telegraph, etc., how furious he
has made the vulgar Liberals ; but he has necessi-
tated a more searching treatment of the whole
question of Reform, and the rank and file of Eng-
lish platforms and House of Commons speakers,
though, 110 doubt, they will still talk platitudes,
will, at any rate, have to learn new ones. Heaven
forbid that the English nation should become like
this nation ; but Heaven forbid also that it should
remain as it is. If it does, it will be beaten by
America on its own line, and by the Continental
nations on the European line. I see this as plain
as I see the paper before me ; but what good one
can do, though one sees it, is another question.
Time will decide.
1 On the Borough Franchise Extension Bill ; May 3, 1865.
VOL. i. x
306 TO JOHN CONINGTON.
I was at the same inn at Fontainebleau where
Toin and I were with papa twenty-four years
nearly ago. We did not go over the Palace then,
but arrived late in the evening, and started early
next morning a wet morning, I remember it was.
It makes me sad to think I shall not see Fox How
this year; but yet dear mamma I must manage
to see somehow. Your ever affectionate M. A.
To John Conington,
Professor of Latin at Oxford.
PARIS, May 17, 1865.
MY DEAR CONINGTON Many thanks for your
ready kindness kindness such as you have always
been prompt to show me. I leave Paris to-night
for Italy, but I cannot go away without a word
of thanks to you.
Piles of exercise-books are sent to me to look
through, and I wish you could see them with me.
The Latin verse is certainly very good; but it is
clear that Latin and Greek are cultivated almost
entirely with a view to giving the pupil a mastery
over his own language : a mastery which has al-
ways been the great object of intellectual ambition
here, and which counts for more than a like mas-
tery does with us. Perhaps, because it does not
count for so much with us, a like mastery is, in
fact, scarcely ever attained in England certainly
never at school.
I go to Germany after Italy, and finish with one
or two country districts in France.
TO HIS WIFE. 307
Swinburne's poem 1 is as you say : the moderns
will only have the antique on the condition of mak-
ing it more beautiful (according to their own notions
of beauty) than the antique: i.e. something wholly
different. You were always good to "Merope,"
and I think there is a certain solidity in her com-
position, which makes her look as well now as five
years ago a great test. The chorus rhythms are
unsatisfactory, I admit, but I cannot yet feel that
rhyme would do. Ever most sincerely yours,
MATTHEW ARNOLD.
To his Wife.
HOTEL DE L'EUROPE, TURIN,
May 19, 1865.
This would be charming if you were but here.
The best inn, I think, I have ever been in in my
life ; the room excellently fitted, and a tub, as in
Paris ; but the room would make two of the Paris
bedroom and sitting-room rolled into one. And
Turin is delightful. Things already begin to have
the grand air of Italy, which is so much to my taste,
and which France is as much without as England.
At the end of every street you catch sight of the
beautiful low, grand hills on the other side of the
Po, or else of the Alps all mottled with snow, and
with white clouds playing half way down them.
I have a feeling that this and Germany are going
to suit me a great deal better than France. But I
must give you my history. Besides writing to you
I had to write a quantity of other letters, but I
1 " Atalanta in Calydon."
308 TO HIS WIFE.
found time to call on the Mohls, and I am. very
sorry indeed you did not dine there. It appears
there was Mignet there as well as Guizot, and
Ranke, and Prevost Paradol, St. Hilaire, and
quite a large party. I was off at 7 P.M., and most
sincerely I wished that I was going to the Calais,
instead of the Lyons station. Of course, the hotel
commissionaire had utterly bungled my place. I
found I had only an ordinary ticket, and had
everything about the coupe to do for myself. I
and an elderly Italian merchant from London,
a very pleasant man, had a coupe together. I
slept pretty well till Dijon. Then I slept no more.
But it was light, and after watching the country
for some time I read the Causeries. At Macon it
began to rain hard, and at Culoz, where it for the
first time became new to me, it was very wild and
stormy. An Italian officer got in at Culoz, a very
pleasant companion too, so we were three. All
along the Lake of Bourget and by Aix-les-Bains
in pouring rain, but I could see how lovely it was,
and the lake with the sweet light blue colour,
which our English and Scotch lakes never have.
It was very interesting and beautiful all the way
to St. Michel, but it got very chill and blustering.
At St. Michel a great confusion to transfer us all
to diligences, and I got a middle place in an
interieur, which was detestable; and without a
coupe I never again will cross the Alps in any-
thing but a voiturier's carriage. I could see how
beautiful it was as we got up the Cenis Valley, and
the ground carpeted with flowers, among them I
TO HIS WIFE. 309
am almost sure narcissuses, but the conducteur would
let no one get out; they make great haste, I will
say for them. At Lans le Bourg, at the foot of
the zig-zags, a bad dinner, then rain off and on,
but the mountains mostly clear. Near the top I
and a German at last forced the conducteur to let
us get out, and I had a good walk to the top.
Snow was all round me, but I got a beautiful
gentian and a snow flower, but things are hardly
out. At the top we got in again, and down to Susa
(the most beautiful descent possible, I believe) in
the dark a wretched way of travelling! At
half-past ten off for this place, where I instantly
got a carriage and drove here, arriving about
twelve, very tired and dirty. I washed and went
to bed, had breakfast at ten this morning, and
went to see Elliot, 1 who has asked me to dinner
to-night, so I cannot go and see the Superga, as I
intended. The Minister of Public Instruction is
gone to Florence, whither I must follow him to-
morrow. There I hope to find a letter from you.
Write after you get this to the Hotel d'Angleterre,
Eome. Elliot says I shall have heaps of time to
go there before the Ministers will be settled.
To the Same.
HOTEL DE FLORENCE, FLORENCE,
Tuesday, May 23, 1865.
You cannot think what a pleasure this letter of
yours has been, and will be to me. It is a good
1 Afterwards Sir Henry Elliot, British Minister at Turin, and
Ambassador at Constantinople and at Vienna.
310 TO HIS WIFE.
account, but I want to hear that you are quite right
again. Now I must go back to my journey. I
wrote to you the very day you were writing to me.
After I posted my letter I had to dress as fast as I
could and hurry off to Mr. Elliot's. There was no
one but himself, his wife, and Mr. Jocelyn, the first
Attache. Mr. Herries, the Secretary of Legation,
and the second Attache are here. The house is
a splendid one, but he has got an equally good one
here ; it was very pleasant. He said I had certainly
better go to Kome for a few days while they were
settling at Florence, for the Archives of the differ-
ent public offices are at present in huge boxes on
the bare floors. I dined at the table d'hdte, and at
nine o'clock started by the train for Florence. You
would have said all Turin was going ; there was a
special Bureau open for tickets to the Government
employes, in fact, it is an immense migration, and
such as there is no example of in modern times, a
nation of 22,000,000 changing its capital and trans-
ferring its public business. My carriage was quite
full all men, among them the Minister of Grace
and Justice ; but there was no smoking, there being
certain carriages reserved here for non-smokers, as
elsewhere carriages are reserved for the smokers ;
but it is a great humanity to keep some place where
one can be free from tobacco smoke, even if there
are no ladies, and the Italians set a good example
to the French here. It poured all night as if the
sky was coming down. I slept moderately. At
Bologna our numbers fell off to three, and we began
to go through the Apennines. I could just see
TO HIS WIFE.
311
what a beautiful place Bologna was on the lower
slopes of the mountains, but mist and cloud were all
round it as they might have been round Kendal.
We slowly mounted up and up, the train going
very slowly, and the country getting wilder and
wilder, but nothing that to my thinking might not,
except for the buildings, have been England. At
last we got through a tunnel at the top, and the
descent was before us. Everything was changed, it
was the real Italy ; the weather had cleared, it was
all sunshine and white clouds ; the snow sparkled
on the highest Apennines, and round us the hills,
covered with chestnut forest, sloped down to the
Val d'Arno, which lay beneath us studded with in-
numerable domes, towers, and roofs, and cultivated
like a garden. It was for this country I was pre-
destined, for I found everything just as I expected.
The cypresses on every height, round every villa or
convent, are the effect which pleases me most. But
the whole country is a pell-mell of olive, vine, mul-
berry, fig, maize, and wheat all the way to Florence.
We got here about eleven, and I came to this new
hotel of which Jocelyn had told me, and which is
not in Murray. It was Sunday, so then I went to
the Duomo, the church I had so often heard of with
Brunelleschi's dome. Then I took a bath, then a
drive, but a violent rainstorm came on and shut me
up in the hotel all the evening. I dined late ; yes-
terday I passed in running about leaving letters
and making calls, but the confusion here is im-
mense. I have not yet had time to see anything,
except the outsides of things, beyond the glimpse I
312 TO HIS MOTHER.
had of the inside of the Cathedral ; but I shall see
the pictures at the Uffizi now, before Herries comes
to tell me what the Minister can do for me. I think
I shall go to Rome to-morrow. I see a letter from
England here takes three days, so write to me here
to this hotel. Let K. hear of me, I shall write to
her soon. I can truly say I would far sooner be
with you all at Dover than here, though I like this
better than Paris.
Kiss the darlings for me.
To his Mother.
HOTEL DE FLORENCE, FLORENCE,
May 24, 1865.
MY DEAREST MOTHER It will be difficult for
Rome itself to delight me more than Florence,
the Cathedral here I prefer to every church I have
as yet seen in my life ; but it is ' the look of the
place from every point in the environs which so
charms me, and for which I have such a thirst that
it is difficult for me to attend to anything else. I
am too old to travel alone, and I miss Flu here so
much that it would be difficult to say that I pre-
cisely enjoy myself j but I have a deep and growing
sense of satisfaction which was entirely wanting to
me in Paris ; a sense that I am seeing what it does
me good through my whole being to see and for
which I shall be the better all my life. I have
had to run about so for my business that I have
had very little time to do any sights properly. I
have twice been for twenty minutes to look at
Michael Angelo's famous tombs of the two Medici;
TO HIS MOTHER.
313
I imagine there is no work of art here for which I
shall care so much. I have also been for about an
hour to the Uffizi, and shall go for another hour
to-day. I came on Sunday, and to-morrow early
I start for Kome. The people here are so inter-
esting, and the intellectual stir among them is
so great, that my business has great attractions,
attractions enough to console one for being pre-
vented from fully seeing the sights. Thrpugh all
Europe the movement is now towards science, and
the Italian people is distinguished amongst all
others by its scientific intellect this is undoubt-
edly true ; so that with the movement there now is
among them there is no saying where they may go.
They imitate the French too much, however ; it is
good for us to attend to the French, they are so
unlike us, but not good for the Italians, who are a
sister nation. Our Minister at Turin, Mr. Elliot,
whom I like very much, was the first person who
told me that I must certainly go on to Naples,
because the centre of the present educational move-
ment was there. I thought he spoke of primary
education, but the Minister here, whom I have
seen this morning, tells me that at Naples they
have their best university, at Naples their best
lycte, and at Naples, in short, at this moment
"miracles are being done," and he insists on my
going there. The ministerial people are kindness
itself; I think they are rather flattered at being
included in such a mission as this of mine along
with France and Germany. At Naples the In-
spector-General is, oddly enough, a man whom the
314 TO HIS WIFE.
Italian Government sent over to our great Exhibi-
tion, whom a French inspector introduced to me,
and who dined at my house. I hope to be in Kome
about twelve to-morrow night; to stay three days
there, and see the schools of the Jesuits ; then to
Naples and spend three or four days there. They
have a great large school for young ladies, in com-
petition with the convents, which I am to see ; then
I return here for three or four days to see schools
in Tuscany; then I finish by Pisa, Genoa, Turin,
Pavia, Milan; all university towns. Write to me
here, and I shall find your letter on my return in
ten days' time. I shall write to 'Flu from Eome, I
hope, the day after to-morrow. She will keep you
informed of my movements. You may imagine
how I shall think at Kome of dearest papa. Tell
Edward I shall write to him from my farthest
point south; probably Salerno, where there is a
university.
My love to Fan and to Rowland. I am very well.
Your ever most affectionate M. A.
To his Wife.
ROME, May 27, 1865.
We got to Kome about twelve. It was pitch
dark, and only omnibuses; I got here about a
quarter to one and was comfortably lodged immedi-
ately. I found that letters would not go to-night
so I did not write. I must say, I am at present
more oppressed by Kome and by the sense of my
want of time, than enchanted. I found Odo Rus-
sell gone to the country, but he was to return
TO HIS WIFE.
315
to-day, and has just left his card while I was out.
I want to see the great Jesuit School now I am
here. Yesterday I went to St. Peter's and saw
the Pope, and all the Cardinals ; tell Tommy the
horses, carriages, and costumes are beautiful, it
was the fete of St. Philip Neri, the patron Saint
of Borne, so everything was closed except the
churches. I stayed a long time in St. Peter's,
came back here to the four o'clock table d'hdte, and
went afterwards with a French doctor from Havre,
a very pleasant man, to the Pincian, with which I
was disappointed, one has such a very imperfect
view of Eome. It is a glorious place, but it over-
whelms me. This morning I was up early, and
have done a great deal since ; I have kept myself
to ancient Rome, the Capitol, Capitoline Museum
(where the " Dying Gladiator " is), the Forum, the
Palace of Nero and Baths of Titus, the Baths of
Caracalla, the Temple of Vesta, the Theatre of
Marcellus, the Coliseum. To-night, I go to the
Janiculan for a view of Home and the country
round. To-morrow I go to the Basilicas. The
sun is tremendous, but the air is fresh. I think of
you all continually. Write in a day or two after
getting this to the Hotel Feder, Genoa.
To the Same.
NAPLES (May 1865).
When I wrote to you the other day I was feeling
very unwell and knocked up, but I am much better
now and have got through my work here. To-night
I mean to go out and sleep at Castellamare or Sor-
316 TO HIS WIFE.
rento, and on Sunday I set my face northwards. I
think three days will do what is indispensable at
Eome. I hope so, for Rome I rather dread, I feel
the air and heat so oppressive there. Here the
sun is tremendous, but the air is delightful, kept
perpetually alive by the sea. In spite of the
attraction, for you, of Rome and its churches and
ceremonies, this is the place you would like of all
others. I have been saying so to myself every
moment since I have been here, and constantly to
Fusco, who asks much after you. In the first place
it is just the climate to suit you; then it is, at
every moment and wherever you look, the most
absolutely enchanting view in the world; then
Naples is itself the most brilliant and lively of
places, brilliant and lively as Paris, only in a
natural, popular sort of way. ... I have seen
nothing except a run of about two hours through
the museum between two schools, but I am perfectly
satisfied. I shall carry away more from this place
than from any other to which this tour takes me,
even than from Rome. I have seen enough already
to be sure of that. 1.30 P.M. Up -to this was
written before breakfast, and since then I have
been out to the university to pay some official
visits. I have also had a last interview with
Fusco, who is a great personage here, and whom I
like much. And now I find it is too late to go to
Sorrento or to go even to Pompeii, so I must give
them both up, dine at the table d'hdte here, and go
to the Camaldoli afterwards for this time I must
be contented with that. I am not so very much
TO HIS WIFE. 317
disappointed after all, for I leave something to be
seen with you, till one has seen Pompeii and
Sorrento one has not half seen Naples. We will
come straight here, by Marseilles, in September
when the boys have gone back to school. Septem-
ber and October are the glorious months here; no
mosquitoes, the vintage, a perpetual sea breeze,
and the perfection of climate, and then we will see
the environs, Pompeii, Sorrento, Baise, and all
which I cannot see now. The Camaldoli even
must wait till then, for I have just heard that it
is too far to go in the evening, after the table d'hdte,
so I must confine myself to the Castle of St. Elmo
and the convent of San Martino. I have had very
hard work, but I have seen a great many institu-
tions. On Wednesday Fusco called for me at eight
o'clock and took me to the great Lyceum here ; it,
and all such establishments are in fine buildings,
because the Government gives them convents which
it has suppressed. The professors are very inferior
to those in France, and generally, 1 must say, the
impression of plain dealing, honesty, and efficiency,
according to their own system, which one gets in
France, is very different from what one gets here.
But the Government is doing a great deal; beggars,
for instance, are almost suppressed. I have not
seen half a dozen, and I am told two or three years
ago you could not go out of this hotel without being
besieged by them. We were all day seeing the
lycee and the trade school annexed to it; the trade
school is held in a church taken from the Jesuits.
All the splendid marbles and all the paintings and
318 TO HIS WIFE.
gilding still remain, but there were drawing-desks
set up all over the floor under the domes, and the
pupils drawing at them. I dined alone at the table
d'hdte, and afterwards took another drive through
the grotto of Posilipo with Fusco, who had come
to fetch me. It took me out, like the first drive I
had here, to the view of Ischia and Cape Misenna,
the most beautiful I have ever seen in my life.
This country is very insecure at present, from the
Pope having turned all his own brigands loose upon
it. Fusco would not allow me to go to the Camal-
doli as I had at first intended, because I had on the
day before told the driver that I would go there,
and he says this is not safe. The next morning I
was. up very early, and at nine was with Fusco at a
great girls' school, under Government, held in an
old convent of the Benedictine nuns ; the vast space
and cool corridors of these great Neapolitan con-
vents are delightful; all their gardens are full of
orange and lemon-trees laden with fruit, and the
cool-looking plane, and tlje exquisitely graceful
pepper-tree. But I liked better the other girls'
school at the Miracoli, an old convent of the Fran-
ciscan nuns, which we went to in the afternoon,
the girls in both are of the best classes in Naples,
but I liked their looks better, and their directresses
better at the Miracoli. I am so glad you are at
Dover, and on the Marine Parade. Kiss the dar-
lings for me. I saw a little duck of a girl running
about stark naked (the best costume for her) at
Maddaloni yesterday, who made me think of my
Nell.
TO HIS MOTHER. 319
To his Mother.
ROME, June 5, 1865.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I must not be in Home
without writing to you, for, as you may suppose,
I think of you very often; and I hope this will
reach you about the time of dearest papa's birth-
day. I have two of his maps here with me, and
his handwriting upon them a clearer and easier
looking print than anybody else can write and his
marks here and there in one of the maps them-
selves are a continual pleasure to me. I think I
wrote to you from Florence and told you that I
should probably come here. ... So this day last
week I started for Naples. My first real impres-
sion of Borne was on looking back on it from the
railway between this and Albano. All that is said
of the impressiveness of the country round Borne
the Campagna and the mountains is true and
more than true. It is the sight of a country itself,
its natural features and views that I like better
than everything else, and here I quite sympathise
with dear papa and his liking for being always in a
carriage, though perhaps he did not give quite
enough time to towns and interiors. But no doubt
the towns and interiors are not, to me at least,
exactly delightful; but they are a lesson one has
to learn, and one has the benefit of it afterwards.
But the pleasant thing is moving through the
country. The railway goes round to the south of
the Alban Hills, and then, instead of crossing the
Pontine Marshes to Terracina, goes to the north of
the Volscian Highlands, and it was this part of
320 TO HIS MOTHER.
the journey, with the Volscian Highlands on one's
right, and the Hernican country on the slopes of
the Apennines on one's left the old Via Latina,
with Anagnia, Alatra, Frusino, Signia, Arpimim
along the route or not far off it that made me,
as I went along with his Westphat's maps in my
hand, think so perpetually of him and how he
would have enjoyed it. The beauty of the country
exceeds belief, the Volscian Highlands particu-
larly, of which I had so often heard him speak,
are for shape, wood, and light and colour on their
northern side, as beautiful as a dream. Then we
passed Monte Casino, after crossing the Liris; and
at St. Germans, the town under the great Benedic-
tine Monastery of Monte Casino, we crossed a
river, the B-apido, which satisfied me for volume
and clearness of water; that is the great want I
feel in the plain or valley ; when I see them, all
the streams have got earthy and turbid. I have
not been enough into the hills to see them in their
pure state, and to see the lakes. At Capua we
came on your old route again, and I thought of
your uncomfortable night there. And then, about
five in the afternoon we came in sight of Vesuvius,
smoking, and, about half an hour after, I was free
of the railroad and emerged in an open carriage
upon the shore of the bay, and followed it to Santa
Lucia, where my hotel was. My dearest Mother,
that is the view, of all the views of the world, that
will stay longest with me. For the same reason
that I prefer driving through the country to seeing
sights in towns I prefer, infinitely prefer as a
TO HIS MOTHER. 321
matter of pleasure, Naples to Kome; did not you
feel this? Capri in front, and the Sorrento penin-
sula girdling the bay: never can anything give
one, of itself, without any trouble on one's own
part such delectation as that. It was very hot at
Naples, and I had much to do in a short time, so
much that I could not even see Pompeii, or Sor-
rento, or Baise, or any of the things that are to be
seen; but every evening, when I had done my
work, I got to some point above Naples, and saw
Naples and the bay, and that was enough. The
rest I keep to see with Flu. I came back yesterday
to Borne; again a most beautiful journey. I am
excellently lodged here, and this morning Odo
Kussell has brought me a letter from Cardinal
Antonelli, promising to let me see the Collegio
Komana, the Sapienza, and the whole thing here;
we go to the Cardinal to-morrow; to-day is Whit-
Monday, and no business can be done. This
morning before breakfast I went to the English
burying-ground by the pyramid of Cestius, and saw
the graves of Shelley and Keats, and what inter-
ested me even more that of Goethe's only son.
I came upon it unexpectedly, not knowing few
English do know that it was there; the short
inscription must certainly have been by Goethe
himself. How I feel Goethe's greatness in this
place ! Here in Italy one feels that all time spent
out of Italy by tourists in France, Germany,
Switzerland, etc., etc. is human life being so
short time misspent. Greece and parts of the
East are the only other places to go to. I am well
VOLo I. Y
322 TO MRS. FORSTER.
on the whole, though some days I have been much
knocked up, as it is very hot. I live chiefly on
bread, black coffee, and ices; but in England no
one knows what ices are the water ices of Naples.
To-night I am going to the opera with Odo Russell,
who is kindness itself. The country on the Nea-
politan frontier is much disturbed, or I should go
for the one day's excursion I mean to give myself
here, to Arpinum, Cicero's birthplace; it is among
beautiful scenery. Russell says, if I like to go,
he will get me an escort from the French com-
mander here, but I think this would rather spoil
one's day's holiday. At Naples the dread of the
brigands is something quite inconvenient.
Now I must stop. I hope to cross the Alps
within three weeks from this time, at any rate.
Write to me at the Poste Restante, Coire, en
Suisse. It will be a welcome to the other side of
the Alps, which I shall not be sorry to reach. I
say to myself that I keep all about Naples to see
with Flu there is no place she would so much
enjoy. My love to Fan. I am always, my dear-
est mother, your most affectionate son, M. A.
I daresay there is now a letter of yours lying at
Florence for me. I shall get it when I go back
there, as I shall for a day or two.
To Mrs. Forster.
TURIN, June 21, 1865.
MY DEAREST K. I heard the other day of your
virtuous contrition for not writing to me, and I
TO MRS. FORSTER. 323
have for some time been feeling the same for not
writing to you, so often are you in my thoughts,
and so much do I still connect you with whatever
interests me. Here I am again, this time with my
face to the north. You can hardly imagine the
delight with which I have noted each fresh degree
northward, as I made it. Yesterday two great
stages were accomplished. I crossed the Apen-
nines, and I crossed the 45th degree of latitude;
and last night, the first time for about a fortnight,
I slept without the buzz of mosquitoes in my ears ;
and to-day the venerable Alps are in sight at the
end of the street, with their glaciers, their snow,
their eternal waters. The dry water-courses in the
Apennines ended by becoming a positive pain to
me: they actually spoiled my perfect enjoyment
of the landscape. And* nowhere has Scotland, as
I saw it last year, so gained upon me as here in
Italy : the charm of those innumerable clear rivers
is so infinite to me. I have only once, in Italy,
seen an abounding stream what I call abounding
of pure water : that was the Kapido, which flows
at the foot of Monte Casino, by the ancient Casi-
num ; and how he manages to do so well I can't
imagine. The sea is delicious, and on the Riviera,
between Spezia and Genoa, I for the first time saw
the Mediterranean as one imagines it; even at
Naples it had not been the right blue. But the
sea does not make up to me for the want of streams.
I had a memorable day, however, on Saturday : I
could not get on to Genoa till the next day, and I
was not sorry for a day of rest, on which my only
324 TO MRS. FORSTER.
business was to write a letter in French to an
Italian member of Parliament who had written to
me about education in Italy. I was at the Croce
di Malta, an inn with only the road between it
and the gulf. Spezia is at the very recess of the
gulf of that name, one of the best harbours in the
world, of immense depth, protected by mountains
on almost all sides, and running I know not how
many miles into the land, with the high Apennines,
and their off -shoot the marble mountains of Missa
and Carrara for a background. The gulf is well
enlivened by shipping, for the Italian Government
are going to make it their great military port,
leaving Genoa for commerce; and there were two
men of war, and some twenty steamers for the
works of the port, and so on, besides light sailing
craft. After breakfast I strolled out along the east
arm of the bay, towards Porto Venere, and coming
to a great combe, at first terraced for olive, vine,
and fig, then becoming chestnut forest, then ending
in bare bright mountain, with an unfinished fort,
which the first Napoleon began, crowning the top,
I could not resist striking up it. There was a
rough path, and I got high enough to command
the whole gulf, so interesting to me for Shelley's
sake too, Lerici in front, and the open Mediterra-
nean beyond; and then I made the whole sweep of
the combe, beginning at the side farthest from
Spezia, and going round through the chestnut
forest, and down again through the olives on the
side nearest Spezia. In the recess of the combe,
where a beautiful torrent ought to break down, all
TO MRS. FORSTER. 325
was now dry and stony; but this was the only
drawback, and I thoroughly enjoyed observing and
taking in the details of the vegetation. What
most strikes me is the number of characteristic
features which the hill vegetation in Italy has in
common with that with which I was familiar at
home. For instance, the fern is everywhere, and
what a feature that is! I had no notion of this
till I found it to be so by experience. Then again
the dog-rose is everywhere, growing nearer the
ground than ours, but the same flower; then the
juniper, wifi a fuller berry, but the same plant;
then masses of the wild clematis, and this, too,
I noticed in the lanes about Borne. Stonecrops
somewhat different from ours, but the effect the
same. The myrtle, and in flower, I found all
about me on this walk; that and the wild sweet
pea, and a plant something like a stock, which
sheds abundance of white juice if you break it (the
Euphorbia, I think) were the great novelties. But
on the whole, what I am most struck (and delighted)
with, is the identity, on the whole, of the effect of
the hills and their vegetation in Italy and with us.
As to the people, that is a long story. I have
more and more come to papa's way of feeling about
the Italians, and I cannot but think this a mere
fair-weather kingdom. 80, 000 French, English, or
Germans might, I am perfectly convinced, enter
this country to-morrow, overrun it in three months,
and hold it for ever against all the opposition they
would meet with from within. The Piedmontese
is the only virile element he is like a country
326 TO MRS. FORSTER.
Frenchman but he is a small leaven to leaven the
whole lump. And the whole lump want backbone,
serious energy, and power of honest work to a
degree that makes one impatient. I am tempted
to take the professors I see in the schools by the
collar, and hold them down to their work for five
or six hours a day so angry do I get at their
shirking and inefficiency. They have all a certain
refinement which they call civilisation, but a nation
is really civilised by acquiring the qualities it by
nature is wanting in; and the Italians are no more
civilised by virtue of their refinement alone than
we are civilised by virtue of our energy alone.
The French detest them, and are always speaking
of us and themselves together in contrast to them ;
and you cannot see the French soldiers in Rome
without noticing in them the look of rusticity and
virility, and of capacity for serious business, which
is just what the Italians want the feeling of the
French towards us seems to me to be constantly
getting better and better and really the two
nations have more in common than any other two
modern nations. Both French and Italians dislike
the Americans, and call them a nation mat elevfe,
and so they are : such awful specimens as I was in
the Coliseum with ! and by moonlight too. But
I was much taken with a young American attach^
at Florence; he might have been a gawky young
Scotchman, and indeed he told me he had Scotch
blood in him, but he has the temper and moral
tone of a gentleman, and the making of a gentle-
man, in the European sense of the word, in him;
TO HIS WIFE.
327
and that is what so few of his countrymen have.
Your ever affectionate M. A.
The Government is omnipotent here at this
moment, and the ministers are the only people
in the country who really work. They do. They
have to make the nation, and I hope in time it
may be done. The R. C. Church is here a great
obstacle ; you know I am not its enemy, but here
in Italy it seems to me utterly without future,
untransformable, unadaptable, used up, and an
almost fatal difficulty to the country.
To his Wife.
TURIN, June 22, 1865.
It repays one for absence in heat and fatigue and
everything to get such a letter as that of yours
which I found waiting for me here the night before
last, or rather I did not get it till yesterday morn-
ing. Your account of the children is delightful
those dear little girls !
I left Genoa on Tuesday evening, having passed
a long day school-seeing there. It is a beautiful
place one of the places you would thoroughly
like next to Naples, I think. I was much hur-
ried at Genoa, and did not see the town from the
environs as it deserves to be seen. The mountain
setting of the place is finer than anything I had
imagined; but this, too, is left to be seen with you.
Since I have been in Italy I have rather wished
you wore ear-rings the great gold ear-rings of
this country, in such a variety of styles, please
328 TO HIS WIFE.
me so much however, it is perhaps as well you
do not. At half-past six on Tuesday evening I
left Genoa; we turned straight up from the sea
into the mountains, and in an hour's time a tunnel,
two miles long, had taken us through the Apen-
nines. After the day's sun the sight of the hill-
tops and the chestnut forest was refreshing, and
in the river whose valley we followed down on the
north side there was a little water; in the river on
the south there was none, and all the water-courses
are stony and dry. This is what breaks my heart
in the Apennines; for, as Dicky used to say at
Viel Salm, "Papa loves rivers." By eleven we got
to Turin, and before twelve I was in bed again in
this best of all possible inns the Europe the
best on the whole, I think, that I have ever been
at. I have a charming little apartment on the
premier. The air was sensibly different as I drove
through the streets of this place and the olive,
and fig, and cypress have ceased, and at the end of
the streets one sees that glorious wall of the Alps
sparkling with snow and ice (though there is very
little snow this year), and forming an immense
reservoir of coolness and moisture. And for the
first time for a fortnight I slept in peace the
mosquitoes have ceased.
Yesterday I paid school and other visits. Among
the latter, one to Mr. Marsh, the American min-
ister, who is a savant, and has written an excellent
book on the English language. He is a tall, stout,
homely-looking man of about fifty-five, redeemed
from Yankeeism by his European residence and
TO HIS WIFE.
329
culture. I like him very much, and his wife is a
handsome woman; and the young attache, Clay, I
liked very much too. When you find that rara
avis, a really well-bred and trained American, you
feel the bond of race directly. I saw also M.
Manteucci, the ex-Minister of Public Instruction,
who knows the subject better than almost anybody
in Europe. I like him more than any Italian I
have seen he is more like a Frenchman or Eng-
lishman. My opinion of the Italians, from all I
have seen of them, is very unfavourable. I have
got to speak the language, for practical purposes,
tolerably; but I generally find French does. M.
Manteucci, for instance, spoke French like a
Frenchman, and French is a kind of second lan-
guage in this country. With the two months 7
practice, and knowing it as I did before, I think I
may say I have got to speak French really well. I
am glad you are doing a little at German ; directly
I get to Berlin I mean to take a master, for in
Germany French does not do as it does here.
I should like to have been on that expedition to
the Castle with you. Tell Tommy to write me a
line. I send a new stamp expressly on his account.
Write as before to Berlin. Ever yours, M.
To the Same.
MILAN, Sunday, June 25, 1865.
I got here at midnight on Friday, having left
Turin after dinner, and travelled through a
thunderstorm which cooled the air deliciously;
330 TO HIS WIFE.
one put one's hand out of the window for the
pleasure of feeling the moistened air and the cool
drops. I am at the Hotel de Ville, in an apart-
ment au premier, a charming sitting-room and a
vast bedroom. There is a great balcony before
the windows, and the rooms both look out on the
principal street, with the Church of San Carlo op-
posite, and the Cathedral some hundred yards to
the left. There is not a cloud in the sky, and the
saints and angels on the white marble pinnacles of
that incomparable church stand out against the
deep blue sky as if they were going to take their
flight into it. A great deal has been done towards
peopling the niches with statues, adding white
marble fretwork on the roof, repairing, etc., since
you were here. It would fill you with delight to
see it again ; and the nave this morning, with the
light and shade, and the numbers at mass, and the
chairs on the floor, was the most beautiful of pict-
ures. You would like it better than the Florence
Cathedral, and I am not sure whether I do not like
it as much. Milan always affected my imagination
as representing the splendour and wealth of the
middle age the noble, grandiose splendour and
wealth, as Antwerp represents the bourgeois splen-
dour and wealth ; then its situation in this splendid
plain, with the sun of Italy, but the Alps and
the lakes close by, I like extremely. And it has
the look now, more than any place in Italy, of the
luxury and civilisation of a great modern city, like
Paris or London. This gives it something brilliant
and gay which the other Italian towns have not.
TO HIS MOTHER. 331
The streets delight me ; nowhere have I seen street
architecture and great houses which I so thoroughly
like. I find this inn excellent, though it is not the
one we were at; but the situation is much better.
At certain points yesterday the gardens, the
Corso, a particular church with columns let into
the side you cannot think how vividly you were
brought to my mind. The Provveditore here is
a very agreeable and a distinguished man, and he
speaks French well, as almost everybody does here.
I went to him about nine yesterday morning, and
saw institutions with him till one, when all school
work stops here ; then I went back to my hotel and
breakfasted. Then I made up my notes and jour-
nal; then I got a carriage and went "to my Provve-
ditore at his office, who drove with me to the Brera,
where the secretary showed us through the gallery,
though it was after hours, and the gallery was
closed. Of course in this way I saw the pictures
to perfection. One gets very much interested in
pictures, at least I do; as I see more of them, the
whole history and development of art gradually
becomes a matter of more reality to me. The fres-
coes of Luini, for example, interest me now in a
way I could not have believed possible when I
came into Italy.
To his Mother.
BERLIN, July 5, 1865.
MY DEAREST MOTHER I found a letter from
you on arriving here, and for these last few days
it has been on my mind to answer it, and now
332 TO HIS MOTHER.
comes another letter from you to-day to decide me.
I had descended with the intention of looking at
the pictures in the Museum here for an hour before
I go to a school Zumgrauen Kloster ; but as I went
down the porter gave me four letters, yours among
them ; I went out and sat on a bench Under den
Linden to read them, and when I could read them
for the little school-boys surrounding me, and
clamouring to me to give them one of the English
postage stamps, I determined to come in and write
to you at once, as there are many hindrances unless
one does a thing at the moment. I meant to write
to you about Chiavenna, and to tell you how
entirely I agree with you about it; I looked at it
with great interest for your sake. I left Milan in
the afternoon of last Sunday week, crossed the
great plain in gloom and thunder and rain, but
found it all clear by the time we got to Como,
everything new washed, and the lake sparkling in
the sun. The plain of Lombardy, with its grass,
rivers, and water-courses, had already refreshed
my eyes, which were weary of the rocky, parched
ground of Italy proper, for the vegetation of the
south, splendid as it is, is all above the ground in
the branches and leaves of the trees, and not
muffling and cooling the ground itself in the way
I so love ; but the waters of the Lake of Como were
a delightful sight, with the thought how deep they
were, and what a plenty there was of them. I
made out distinctly the chestnuts and papa's
favourite walk; I had missed them when I was at
Como before. But what gave me most pleasure
TO HIS MOTHER. 333
was the true mountain lawns above the mountain
forests, grass stretching up to the indescribably
elegant, delicate outline of these mountain tops.
There was a German on board so like Edward that
I took a fancy to him, and, really, till he opened
his mouth I could have sworn he was an English-
man. There was also a charming Italian family
with whom I afterwards travelled from Coire to
near Nuremburg, and with whom I became great
friends. We passed Cadenabbia, where I was with
dear Flu in 1851, but it was blustering, gloomy
weather that summer, and Cadenabbia, the most
beautiful point of the whole lake, looked very
different this year, with its olives and double lake,
and the Villa Sommariva and Bellaggio. Como is
a return to real Italy before leaving it, for the
olive, which you lose in Lombardy, reappears, and
even the cypress in moderation, and the orange and
lemon in gardens. The Colico end with its moun-
tain towns and villages I was very glad to see,
some of the campaniles I could have looked at for
ever. From Colico I went on with the diligence
to Chiavenna; it got dark soon after we left Colico,
and we did not reach Chiavenna till half -past eleven,
when I had some tea and went to bed. I was up
early next morning and went out, a beautiful morn-
ing, of course, and then I saw what the place was.
First I went to the church with its cloister and
campanile, beautifully Italian, in the best style,
then I got the key of a vineyard, and went up
through it to the top of a rock which commands a
celeb
