CHAPTER 1

To Frederick Spalding

12 Marine Terrace, Lowestoft
Jan. 5/67

Dear Sir,

I really was to have gone home Today, but make a little Business with Posh an excuse for waiting over Sunday. This very Day he signs an Agreement for a new Herring-lugger, of which he is to be Captain, and to which he will contribute some Nets and Gear. I daresay I had better have left all this alone: but, if moderately lucky, the Vessel will pay something, at any rate; and in the meanwhile it really does me some good, I believe, to set up this little Interest here: and even if I lose money, I get some Fun for it. So now I shall be very glad to drop "Esquire," and be addressed as "Herring-merchant" for the future.

Posh has been doing well this week with Cod-fishing, as only one other Boat has been out (owing to the others not having a Set-net to catch Bait with). His Fish have brought a good Price, even from the old Jew, Levi. I believe I have smoked my Pipe every evening but one with Posh at his house, which his quiet little Wife keeps tidy and pleasant. The Man is, I do think, of a Royal Nature. I have told him he is liable to one Danger (the Hare with Many Friends) — so many wanting him to drink: he says, it's quite true: and that he is often obliged to run away: as I believe he does: for his House shows all Temperance and Order. This little Lecture I give him — to go the way, I suppose, of all such Advice.

We have had — as I suppose you also — Snow and Frost, so as to make the Streets uneasy walking. But Today the Wind is southered, and it thaws.

Yours sincerely

E.FG.

I will bring your Herrings when I return.

To Bernard Quaritch

Markethill, Woodbridge
Jan. 7/67

Dear Sir,

I should like to have Lewis' Sketches in France and Germany — marked £1.1. in the Catalogue you sent me.

Have you a cheap Copy of Cotgrave's Dictionary?

Yours

E. FitzGerald

To Posh Fletcher

Markethill: Woodbridge
Thursday [January 10, 1867]

My dear Poshy,

My Lawyer can easily manage the Assignment of the Lugger to me, leaving the Agreement as it is between you and Fuller. But you must send the Agreement here for him to see.

As we shall provide that the Lugger when built shall belong to me; so we will provide that, in case of my dying before she is built, you may come on my Executors for any Money due.

I think you will believe that I shall propose, and agree to, nothing which is not for your good. For surely I should not have meddled with it at all, but for that one purpose.

And now, Poshy, I mean to read you a short Sermon, which you can keep till Sunday to read. You know I told you of one danger — and I do think, the only one — you are liable to — Drink. I do not the least think you are given to it; but you have, and will have, so many friends who will press you to it; perhaps I myself have been one. And when you keep so long without food, could you do so, Posh, without a Drink — of some [of] your bad Beer too — now and then? And then, does not the Drink — and of bad stuff — take away Appetite for the time? And will, if continued, so spoil the stomach that it will not bear anything but Drink. And this evil comes upon us gradually, without our knowing how it grows. That is why I warn you, Posh; if I am wrong in thinking you want my warning, you must forgive me, believing that I should not warn at all if I were not much interested in your welfare. I know that you do your best to keep out at sea, and watch on shore, for anything that will bring home something for Wife and Family; but do not do so at any such risk as I talk of.

I say, I tell you all this for your sake, and something for my own also — not as regards the Lugger — but because, thinking you, as I do, so good a Fellow; and being glad of your Company; and taking pleasure in seeing you prosper, I should now be sorely vext if you went away from what I believe you to be. Only, whether you do well or ill, show me all above-board, as I really think you have done, and do not let a poor old, solitary, and sad Man (as I really am, in spite of my Jokes) do not, I say, let me waste my Anxiety in vain. I thought I had done with new Likings, and led a more easy Life perhaps on that account; now I shall often think of you with uneasiness, for the very reason that I have so much Liking and Interest for you.

There — the Sermon is done, Posh. You know I am not against Good Beer while at Work; nor a cheerful Glass after work; only do not let it spoil the Stomach, or the Head.

Yours truly

E.FG.

To James Spedding

[Woodbridge]
[January, 1867]

My dear Spedding,

I don't know if you'll care to read the enclosed. I suppose not: but here it is. Mr. Childs, the writer, is a Printer at Bungay, who works for London Houses — Murray, Longmans, etc., has had long Experience, and is a Man of Sense. I sent him a Copy of your Pamphlet, but it seems he had read it before. I must add that he is a Man of great Probity, Candour, Honour; rather obstinate and dogmatic indeed in maintaining his Point, and speaking out.

What I liked least in your Pamphlet is the rather elaborate Eulogy of Ellis, etc. It is rather unlike yourself, and — strange to say — rather like Dr. Parr — in the Lapidary Style.

Now, ain't I glad to have a Spit at you, who floor me so when I walk on Stilts? Not that, in sober seriousness, I compare JS with his always

E.FG.

I don't want Childs' Letter again.

To E. B. Cowell

Markethill, Woodbridge
Jan. 27, [1867]

My dear Cowell,

What a time since I have heard from you — or you from me, you may say. Truth is, I might write oftener if I did not believe you were too busy for Letter-writing: and, though I should not insist on Reply, yet you would probably feel it on your Conscience to answer. You know that I have nothing to tell you except about the few Books I read: and they are the old ones we have talked of before. Neither have I heard any more from Thompson since I last wrote to you: he also is now so busy and great that I will wait till he writes to me. You can, however, tell me if you have heard further about the Sanskrit Business. Robert Groome, who was with me two Days before Christmas, talked to me about it: and he had already written to Thompson about you.

I wrote my yearly Letter to Carlyle two months ago, begging my Compliments to Mrs. C. He replies that she died last April: and I am told that the Newspapers gave the particulars at the time. So I think I shall have to give up even my one yearly Letter, rather than run on such Blunders.

In answer to my yearly Letter to the Tennysons, Mrs. A. T. tells me they are frightened out of the Isle of Wight by inquisitive Hero-worshippers, and are going to Greyshott Hall, Haslemere; which I am told is in Hampshire. Alfred has written a Poem on the Death of Lucretius: which is supposed to walk on too delicate ground for Publication.

Spedding has written a Pamphlet about the...