Sir Alfred Wills mentions, in the reminiscences which follow, which he has kindly sent me, that at one time Newman "took to walking from his house" (in town) "to the college and back in cap and gown." This, however, was not such a startling vagary of costume in a London street as was that of a certain professor of my acquaintance, very absent-minded and dreamy, who, intent on making some abstruse point clear to a young lady pupil, walked one evening round and round a London square with her, talking earnestly, and attired in his top hat and dressing-gown!

As regards Newman's teaching of Latin, Sir Alfred Wills says that "much the best thing that" he "got from" him "was the practice in writing" it. He tells us that his lectures showed signs of the most profound research, and that he took untiring trouble in explaining any difficulty which had arisen. If the difficulty had been that of some member of one of his classes, he would not keep the whole class waiting while he went over the difficult part of the lesson again, but he would approach the subject from an altogether different point of view, and throw, for the class in toto, a new light upon it.

Of course it was not only in Latin that he wished to make pupils think of it as a "spoken language," for Mr. Darbishire tells us that "one of his special endeavours was to accustom his students to deal with Greek as a spoken language" [Footnote: It will be remembered that Francis Newman introduced the "new" pronunciation of Latin.] (as, for instance) "in reading Greek plays." Mr. Darbishire further tells us that Newman was accustomed to have a series of meetings in his study for conversation in Latin.

As regards old methods of teaching Latin, I should like to quote from a paper on "Modern Latin" which Francis Newman wrote in 1862, because there is very much in what he says which shows where the failure of the old system comes in:—

"In general the old method was one of repetition: it dealt immensely in committing Latin to memory. Ridiculous as was the system of giving to boys a Latin syntax in the Latin language, it at any rate did accustom them to the reiteration of a small number of words expressed in very simple sentences, and conveying knowledge of immediate utility.... While I nevertheless believe that at most schools the boys still learn grammar by heart, I venture to remark that the newer method of teaching, so far as known to me, has immensely lessened the quantity of Latin which is thus learned....

"Further, it seems to me that we want what I may call a Latin novel or romance—that is, a pleasing tale of fiction which shall convey numerous Latin words which do not easily find a place in poetry, history, or philosophy. Nothing has struck me as being so much to the purpose as an imitation of the story of Robinson Crusoe, which brings in much that is technical to special occupations—as in nautical affairs—carpentering, fowling, pottery, basket-making, agriculture, etc.... If anyone had genius to produce in Terentian style Latin comedies worthy of engaging the minds and hearts of youth (for I can never read a play of Terence to a young class without the heartache), I should regard this as a valuable contribution."

I pass on now to some reminiscences, kindly contributed by Sir Alfred Wills, of the professor in relation to his University College students in 1846:—

"I have a very distinct recollection of the personality of Mr. F. W. Newman. He was appointed to the Professorship of Latin in University College in 1846, and I entered the college in October, 1846, and attended his first lecture and all those he delivered in the course of that session.

"He was of middle stature, very well made, with a face that always reminded me of the type of the North American Indian, with which I was familiar from Mrs. Catlin's book published in 1841. His complexion was dark, his hair very black and with no tendency to curl, and he wore it long, and his nose was aquiline. He differed from the Indian type, however, in that his face was rather narrow than broad.

"His voice was particularly clear and 'carrying,' and every syllable could be heard. I ought to have added to my description that his eyes were blue, bright, very expressive, and his smile, not very often seen, peculiarly sweet and engaging. He was decidedly eccentric. At one time, in dirty winter weather, he wore trousers of which the lower six or eight inches were of black leather; and at another time, upon what occasion I forget, he took to walking from his house to the college and back in cap and gown. There was a 'Cap and Gown' movement among the students, or some of them, in the session 1847-8, but it was not upon that occasion, for I remember seeing him in the streets in cap and gown, and during the session 1847-8, I was at home in bad health, having overworked myself. He would now and then, very seldom, ask some of the students to breakfast at his house. It was an odd mixture of hospitality and formality. He never seemed quite at his ease on such occasions, and I have a very distinct remembrance of one of these occasions.

"It was in singularly gloomy and bitter weather in the winter or very early spring of 1849. We were rather a large party. There was no fire either in the room in which we assembled or in the breakfast room; and I have not often been colder. There was only one guest who was not a student, and he was a certain Herr Vukovich (that was how the name was pronounced) who had been Hungarian Minister of Justice during the short period when Kossuth was supreme in Hungary.

"When he came in, Professor Newman said: 'Gentlemen, this is Herr Vukovich, lately Minister of Justice in Hungary,' and then turning to Herr V., he added, 'I shall not introduce these gentlemen to you by name, as it would be of no interest to you; and besides, you would forget their names at once'; and then he went off at score with, 'I have never been able to understand, Herr Vukovich, how it is that you have never introduced the Bactrian camel into Hungary,' and then proceeded to enlarge upon the admirable suitability of the Bactrian camel to the climate, soil, roads, conditions of Hungary. Herr V. looked very much as if he had never heard of the Bactrian camel.

"During the whole of the session 1846-7, Newman's lectures were the wonder of all who heard him. We read with him some of Cicero's letters to Atticus, and his stores of information of every description—antiquarian, philological, historical, and literary—were absolutely marvellous. I have never destroyed or lost my notes of them, and I feel sure that they would justify all that I have said. We all felt that we had secured for the college an intellectual giant. I had the great advantage of being, during my first session, in the senior class in both Latin and Greek, and we had for our Greek Professor Mr. Malden, who, I should think, was unsurpassed for sound and elegant scholarship, and in whose lectures I delighted from first to last during my two sessions (1846-7 and 1848-9), but certainly during the first session, Professor Newman's lectures were those which made upon me the deepest impression, which remains unimpaired to this day. It seemed as if no trouble was too great for him to take in preparing for them and as if nothing which could throw any light upon a set of letters, which are often obscure and difficult, ever escaped his eagle eye or his profound research. When I returned to college in 1848, I met with a profound disappointment. I have been asked for my recollections, and I must make them truthful. Professor Newman was at that time much engrossed with his theological and religious works.

"The Soul was published in 1849, and whether that may account for the change or not, the fact is that the lectures of that session presented a marked contrast to those of the earlier session, and I don't think I am exaggerating when I say that they were dry and jejune to the last extent. And I felt throughout that session that much the best thing I got from it was the practice in writing Latin, which was always an important part of his teaching, and in which he was a master himself. I am sure it is true that days often passed without there being anything in the lectures which I cared to preserve or even to note. I had that year, however, the privilege of reading the Nicomachean Ethics with him as a private pupil, and found him as good in Greek and as interested in illustration as I had previously found him in his Latin lectures.

"I forbear to touch upon his private character. That impressed itself insensibly upon us as worthy of the highest respect. But it was simply from the natural effluence of a noble character, for we came rarely into anything like personal intimacy with him. He was reserved and even shy, and I doubt if any of us knew much more of him privately than I did—which was not much."

I think these reminiscences of Sir Alfred Wills bring before us very vividly the sort of intercourse which existed between professor and pupil in those days. It reveals Newman as a man with whom the pupil would not feel altogether at his ease—towards whom he would not be moved to get into close sympathy, and this, perhaps, very largely because of a certain stiffness and formality of manner which unavoidably erects a barrier before any natural, spontaneous conversation.

Sir Edward Fry mentions Newman's manner as a "nervous" one, but says that his lectures were very stimulating, leading one to infer that even if the delivery was not arresting or impressive, yet all this was made up for by the force and brilliance of the matter itself.

It will be remembered that, at any rate, in his Oxford days, J. H. Newman had not an impressive manner either.

We come now to some other keenly interesting recollections—those of Mr. William de Morgan, who has kindly written them for this memoir. Mr. de Morgan tells me that his father and Francis Newman were old friends, but they were widely apart on religious questions, and that he remembers "when the Martineau controversy was at its height" he said to him: "Newman and I were very old colleagues, and I loved and respected him. But if I had been supposed to have any official knowledge of Newman's views about Christianity derived from my position as a Professor, I should have thrown up my situation long ago." And Mr. de Morgan adds: "This had reference to the absolute agnosis on religious views which was the banner U.C. nailed to the mast in old days." He says he remembers, in his boyhood, that there were many religious discussions between his parents and Francis Newman, but that he was far too young to understand what they were about then, and remembers them consequently but vaguely.

"When I came to see more of Newman as a Professor in class, I had arrived at the condition of a pert and very foolish boy of sixteen who had made up his mind to be an artist and failed altogether to take advantage of the splendid opportunities before him. I attended Newman's classes; saw him every day; might have acquired the knowledge of much of the Latin classics. Somehow I missed my chances, and I cannot now recall a single instance of my availing myself of the interviews he accorded so gladly to any attentive student to get at difficult passages, and so on. In my time I suspect his classes included a larger number than usual of bad and idle young scaramouches, who deserved to be turned out of the class, instead of the sort of over-forbearance their Professor showed. I feel sure now that a more truculent character than his would have enforced order better, with advantage to the weak and wavering pupils. He treated boys too much like human creatures—and some of us were as mischievous as monkeys. I recollect a particular instance illustrating this fact and his forbearance.

"The weather was bad, and bad colds abounded. One day Newman ventured to remonstrate gently with the victims of catarrh—indeed, the noise was awful. But he had the indiscretion to add: 'Gentlemen, if you cannot wipe your noses, I must really ask you to blow them outside the door.' Of course the results were awful! The young imps rushed out incessantly into the passage, and made noises like motor-cars. If the Professor committed an error of judgment in his first edict, he certainly made up for it by the way he kept his temper. In this he was really perfect. But the boys presumed on it, of course. I remember that one of them, instead of attending to his Juvenal, wrote a long poem about this nose incident, which passed from hand to hand.

"There was another incident about that time which I fancy others may remember better than I. It was snow time, and the schoolboys in the playground were pelting papers in the college precinct. Newman passed by, and a heavy volley all but destroyed his umbrella, which he used as a shield. A few days after he came into the Common Room with a new umbrella. 'See what a beautiful present I've had,' he said, 'from my young friends across the railings.' I have an impression that it was a guinea umbrella bought with penny subscriptions; but this may be another story that has got mixed with it."

Sir Edward Fry writes, in response to a request from me for his recollections of Newman:—

"I attended Professor Newman's senior class on Latin literature for two or three sessions in 1848, and I have a very vivid remembrance of him; at that time he had not assumed a beard, and his clean-cut features were not obscured by hair, as in later life. His lectures were very interesting and stimulating. If I may venture to express an opinion on the point, I should describe him as a very brilliant scholar, with a tendency towards eccentricity.

"We read whilst I was with him some three or four of the early works of Livy, and some of the histories of Tacitus; and his expansion of the Constitution of Rome, both at the early and later date, was of very unusual excellence. Such was my memory, and this has been confirmed by a reference to my notebooks which I have made in consequence of your note. I think his estimate of character did not always agree with that of Tacitus. Other subjects which I recollect as having been expounded were the relation of Latin to the Celtic group of languages, and that everlasting question, the relation of the Etruscans and the Pelasgi.

"Once a week Newman used to give out a piece of English prose to be rendered into Latin; these he corrected, reading also to us his own version. Since your note I have looked at such notes of his lectures as I can find, and at his corrections of my Latin prose."

Mr. Talfourd Ely, writing on Francis Newman as a teacher, says "he was most careful and conscientious in his work. He was refined and even fastidious in literary taste. To the ordinary undergraduate, such as myself, he seemed too little like other men. We did not understand his genius, and were too apt to judge him by peculiarities of garb and speech. Like many other scholars, he could hardly keep in touch with young athletes, and probably did not care to do so. But personally I was greatly indebted to him, and I can never forget his generous help and kindly thoughtfulness."

Mr. Winterbotham, also pupil of Francis Newman, says:—

"I was more keen on mathematics than classics, and was not what he would have considered a promising pupil. My brother Edward, who was a year my senior, was not much better.... My recollections are confined to the peculiarities of his dress and manner: the rug with a hole in the middle for his head, which formed his outer garment in winter. The complete suit of dark grey alpaca, tail coat, waistcoat, and trousers, which he donned in warm weather.

"His remonstrance to the class on the indignity inflicted on him by the boys at the adjoining school, who snowballed him and broke his umbrella, was followed by his request that they would 'use their influence with the boys' by way of protecting him in future, and his recognition of their efforts next day, when he exhibited a new umbrella presented to him by the boys.... For dear old De Morgan [Footnote: Father of the Mr. de Morgan who contributes his reminiscences, and old friend of Newman.] I had a great regard, and I was better able to appreciate his marvellous powers as a mathematician."

Here is a short reminiscence by Professor Pye Smith:—

"Newman was a small, dark, slightly-built man, with black moustache and beard, and a doubtful affected manner. He made us read long passages without comment, and rarely went beyond the translation. I do not think I ever spoke to him (or others of his class). The memory of his teaching would, I think, be most valuable in correcting the Latin verses we made for his comment and correction. The only professors at that time whom I got great benefit from were Aston Key, De Morgan, and Masson."

The next reminiscence belongs to a much later date in the Professor's life. In 1863 he was no longer teaching at University College. Mrs. Kingsley Tarpey says she remembers him first in the summer of 1874 or 1875. Her descriptions of him, his opinions, and his life as she knew it are full of keen interest.



In the quotation from a letter which follows, Professor Newman's own views on teaching at the college are given:—

"You say there is a complaint that 'as the students cannot be got to prepare their work the lessons have come to be mere prelections from the professors.' I am not aware of any change in the pupils since I have been here, except that my classes are smaller, in part owing to the removal of Coward College and the rivalry of the new institution in which it is now comprised; in part (I happen to know) from dread of my personal ... influence; in part, I suspect, from the working of London University, which I think bad; and others must add, whether worst of all is, my own want of judgment in selecting subjects, and the mode of the treatment. Undeniable it is that my classes are smaller, that my half-dozen best scholars are decidedly below the half-dozen best I had in the first year or two. But if I am myself to blame, it is, I think, from the very reverse process of that implied in the words above quoted, viz. I often question whether it would not be at once wiser and more right to raise my teaching to the small minority of my best pupils, and ignore the many who come in on my classes unprepared. I have of late suspected that I allow the University so to drag me down into school teaching that the abler and advanced students are driven away from me. Moreover, I am getting quite sick of going again and again over elementary books in mere school fashion.

"To vary this, I have this term given one day a week in my senior class to lecture on books, viz. 1st, on Horace's Odes, which nine out of ten have already read, and which I myself read with the junior class last session (having engaged to do this before I guessed that the University would select the same year for B.A.), and many of the junior class being this year in my senior class. 2nd, on the Epistles of Cicero, which are enormously too long and too difficult for pupils to read, and in which, nevertheless, candidates for honours at B.A. are liable to be examined. I conjecture that somebody has seen this announcement of mine in our prospectus, and imputes it to a relaxation of discipline in my pupils (indeed there is little enough, and always was, in the majority of mine; they only want to scrape through their degree, and the University kindly keeps its real demands at a minimum). On the contrary, it is an effort of mine to make the lectures less unworthy of my more advanced pupils. I may add that I have always lectured more or less in this way on Cicero's Letters.... At the same time I avow my entire dissatisfaction with things as I have them. In June I have to print and publish the books in which I will lecture from October to June next, while I have not the slightest idea who will be in the classes. In August, out comes the statement of University books for the following year, which often increases my confusion. It is easier to complain of this than to remedy it."

It is not difficult to understand Newman's point of view as regards the almost impossibility of keeping in hand in one class a team of students— some eagerly desirous of going forward into the real study of literature, and others only anxious to "scrape through" for the purpose of obtaining their degree.

Mrs. Kingsley Tarpey's reminiscences begin thus:—

I think it was in the summer of 1874 or 1875 that Professor Newman first came to visit us. My mother had been much interested in some articles of his on vegetarianism, and had corresponded with him on the subject, and when the Annual Conference of the Vegetarian Society was held in Manchester later on, he stayed with us. This visit was the beginning of a very warm friendship with our family, which lasted close on twenty years. During that time my mother corresponded regularly with Professor Newman, but unfortunately only some eighteen or twenty of his letters have been preserved. There is scarcely one of these, however, that does not contain something of permanent interest and value.

I remember very well, in the days when we used to have visits from him, that Professor Newman was looked upon by very many as a mere faddist. His extreme views on several subjects no doubt took him out of range of the sympathies of the "man in the street." But it is strange to find, on looking through these letters, how advanced opinion is coming into line with his so-called outrageous ideas of a generation ago. It would have given him keen pleasure, if he could have lived till now, to see the strides that have been made of late years in the Women's Suffrage movement, and the admission of women to public bodies. In social and moral reform, and in the Temperance movement also, the progress has been very marked, and we may soon have an Act prohibiting the smoking of tobacco by young boys—a matter on which Professor Newman had very strong views. Last, but not least, the Vegetarian movement, in which he took so keen an interest, has gained new vigour from the advocates of the simple life.

I remember that on the occasion of his first visit we children regarded him with mingled awe and curiosity. His quaint appearance and his formal, deliberate manner of speech made him seem to us like a being from another world. We were at once fascinated and repelled, and I think he became at first the object of our constant, though furtive, observation. But his unvarying gentle kindness and extreme simplicity very soon won our confidence, and later on an accident made us his fast friends and admirers.

It happened that the second or third time that he came to Manchester for the annual meeting of the Vegetarian Society, my father and mother were away, and it fell to the younger members of the household to entertain our distinguished visitor. It was an occasion looked forward to with trepidation and misgiving, but we need not have felt alarmed. No one could have been more genial in his attitude to the youthful housekeepers. He would chat easily and pleasantly with even the youngest of us, and he always managed to find some interesting topic. Sometimes he would give us an account of the doings at the Conference during the day. I remember some curious facts about some of the members. One man ate nothing but apples, and considered them a complete and ideal food for man. Another varied his diet between roots and nuts. He carried assorted strange nuts with him in his pocket, and after his speech he presented some to the President. Our Professor brought them home with him and wished us to try them, but I am afraid that, with the conservative instinct of young animals, we distrusted the unknown, and we did not venture. The Professor considered that our molar teeth clearly indicated grain, roots, and nuts as our food, and the incisors as clearly suggested fruit, but at that time he was in some doubt about the canine teeth. At his request some of us gravely cracked nuts with him, and after the experiment we agreed that human beings more naturally crack nuts with the back teeth, where leverage is most powerful. A suspicion remained that our pointed fangs might have been used to tear flesh!

During this same visit it was suggested that the Society should change its name to one that would describe it more accurately, "Vegetarian," strictly, implying that the members would eat only vegetables. There was much difficulty in finding a portmanteau word that would convey vegetables, eggs, and milk. Professor Newman much disliked the idea of calling it the VEM Society (the name that was afterwards adopted, I think); his proposal was "Anti-creophagite," or "Anti-creophagist." But he could get no support for this name; members objected that no one would know what it meant or how to spell it. Professor Newman had been pained to learn that only two or three people in the hall knew the Greek word.

He was very much interested in language, and it was characteristic of him never to pass a word that he did not know. He had a great dislike and contempt for slang, and he deplored the growing use of it, and the impoverishment of the language that resulted. But dialect words, or old words that lingered in some parts of the country, while they had dropped out of common speech, interested him greatly. One day a younger sister of mine brought him a footstool as he sat reading, and in offering it to him called it a "buffet." It is not a word in common use, but I think we had adopted it from the nursery rhyme about "Miss Muffett, who sat on a buffet." The Professor was on the alert at once.

"That word is quite new to me," he said. "Did you say 'bussock'? I wonder is that a Lancashire word, or does it come from Ireland? 'Bussock'! Will you spell it for me, please?"

My sister was far too young and too shy to correct him, and after faintly murmuring "buffet" again, she ran away in extreme confusion. I am afraid "bussock" went down in the Professor's notebook as an interesting variant of "hassock."

In this connection some delightful stories were told by Dr. Nicholson, of Penrith, an old friend of Professor Newman's and of my father's. The Professor was staying at Penrith, and the two friends had been walking up a steep path. When they stopped to rest, the doctor was regretting that his climbing days were virtually over.

"The truth is," he said humorously, "we are neither of us as steady on our pins as we once were."

"Pins, Nicholson, pins! What are pins?" asked Professor Newman gravely.

On another occasion they were out walking together and the first Lord Brougham passed them in an open carriage. Dr. Nicholson remarked upon Lord Brougham wearing "goggles," and Professor Newman said, in his gentle deliberate way, "Now, Nicholson, may I ask what you exactly mean by 'goggles'?"

The Professor wore hats that in those days were considered amazing: large white or light grey hats made of soft felt. On one of his visits to Penrith he had walked up from the station to the house, and he was followed by a crowd of little boys shouting "Who's your hatter?" which was a catch-phrase of the time. The Professor described to Dr. Nicholson what an extraordinary interest the boys had shown. "They repeatedly asked me," he said, "to tell them who was my hatter, and really, Nicholson, at the time I could not remember the man's name."

Miss Nicholson, of Penrith, adds another story which should have place here.

"My own chief recollection of him," she writes, "is of a day when he and the second Mrs. Newman came into Penrith with me, where I had some shopping to do. On the way into the town Professor Newman said, 'You do not seem to be very clear as to the history of John Brown and the battle of Bull's Run.' I said I was not very clear about it, so he began from the beginning, so to speak, and the story of John Brown lasted till we reached home again. I went into shops to make my purchases, and on each occasion as I came out Professor Newman took up his tale just where he had left off. He showed no annoyance at the frequent interruptions or at my inevitable lapses of attention. His wonderfully clear, distinct enunciation, and his marvellous memory for facts, never faltered."

There was an extraordinary absence of humour about Professor Newman that made him at times unconsciously very humorous. I wish I could remember the quaint wording of an advertisement of his for a cook in a vegetarian paper. There was a long and precise account of the services required for "the smallest possible family," and application was to be made by letter to "Emer. Prof. F. W. Newman," etc. We thought some of the cooks might be puzzled to know what Emer. Prof. meant. I remember also an artless post card he wrote after one visit explaining that he had forgotten his teeth, and asking to have them sent after him.

He had a very odd theory about baldness in men. It sounds a little like a joke, but I believe it was meant in all seriousness. He had observed that men with a very strong growth of beard were more liable to go bald early than those who had the hair on the face thin and scanty. He described this as a kind of landslip, I remember, and his idea was that human beings could only have a small crop of hair, and that a good crop on the chin meant a failure higher up. And that, he thought, accounted for the fact that women rarely go bald.

At the time of the visit I have described, our whole family had become enthusiastic vegetarians—indeed, I may say the whole household of fourteen, for the servants had followed suit. This was a great pleasure to Professor Newman, for it was through his writings that my mother had first become interested in the subject. He had great hopes at one time that she would also share in some other crusades of his against alcohol, tobacco, vaccination, etc. etc. He sent her a great number of leaflets and pamphlets on all these subjects, but though my father was a non-smoker and almost a total abstainer, he was so from habit and inclination and not from any pledge, and I do not remember that the Professor made any convert except myself. I came across a bundle of tracts of his which no one seemed to be reading, and I devoured them all. For some years, from about the age of fifteen, I was an enthusiastic follower of Professor Newman, even in his most extreme ideas. I am afraid he never became aware of this, however, for of course it was only with the older members of the family that he would discuss such questions.

The most enjoyable visit we ever had from him was also the last of any length that he paid us. I think it must have been in the summer of 1879 or 1880, when we were living in the country a few miles from Manchester. It was then I first learnt what a delight a country walk might be. He joined some of the younger members of the party who were taking the dogs out for a run, and I do not think two hours were ever spent by us in a more interesting and fascinating way. He had the rare and charming gift, in talking to young people, of making them feel that he regarded them as equals. And though he was imparting knowledge all the time, he had the air of being really more interested in what they had to contribute. That walk was a revelation to me, a kind of treasure trove of natural science. Hitherto my love of nature had been almost entirely aesthetic and poetical, and this walk with the Professor gave me a new pleasure and a new interest in country life.

I should run into great length if I were to set down all the little traits and incidents that go to make up the memory of that gentle and charming personality. His eccentricities were entirely lovable, as we knew them, and even when he meant to be severe his unconsciously humorous way of putting things took away the sting, as when, one day at lunch, he pointed at a jug of claret and asked, "What is that ugly black liquid? I say ugly and black because I believe it to be some kind of wine."

He had kind and courteous ways with women, and he surprised one by his thoughtfulness in domestic matters. There was no subject too small or too remote for his consideration. I remember his showing us a new scientific way to build a fire, lighting it from the top; and it is upon a lesson of his on rural sanitation that I have based my own management of those matters in our country home. I have a pleasant memory of his holding a skein of wool for me to wind one wet afternoon, and of his telling me the while of his observations of a family of bugs. He was travelling in the East, and at some place where he stayed was much distressed by vermin. At last he discovered that a procession of bugs came out nightly from a certain crack in the plaster, and by removing the paper he could get a very good view of the colony with the aid of a glass. He did not disturb them, it is needless to say, but watched them during his stay, and learnt many curious things about their habits and customs. He formed a very high opinion of their intelligence, I remember.

One day he came in and found my mother and some of us sitting sewing; he asked if he might read to us, and said that his mother and sister used to like him to read to them when they had work to do. I do not remember in the least what he read to us, though I am sure it was appropriate and instructive; but I remember well that he stood while he read, and that his delivery was as clear and as careful as if he had been reading to a large audience.

After his second marriage we saw him but little, but my mother heard from him now and then, and he often sent her articles he had written. In the last years of his life he wrote but seldom. I give extracts from letters over a period of about eighteen years.

FRANCIS NEWMAN IN PRIVATE LIFE BY MRS. BAINSMITH, SCULPTOR

My father and mother were very great personal friends of Newman's, consequently I saw a great deal of him during my early girlhood.

My father was the late George Bucknall, of Rockdene, Weston-super-Mare, and for many years was a great invalid. He suffered from locomotor ataxy. Professor Newman lived just across the road from our house: we could often see him walking about his garden, or sitting at his library window, and very often he came across to our house to discuss his books or letters with my father.

As a young girl I remember the great fascination of his courtly, genial manners. I shall never forget my first interview with him. It happened on my return home from school for the holidays. Being much distressed at having to change from the old pronunciation of Latin to the "new," it occurred to my father that I should ask Professor Newman to help me. So I went in to see him. He was sitting by the fire in large fur-lined boots made of felt, and wearing two coats (for he always found it difficult to keep sufficiently warm). When I stated my difficulty, he went to his shelves with his wonderful smile (the room was lined from floor to ceiling with books) and took out his translation of the Iliad, and read it to me. Then he said quite casually, "Now I will read the same passage to you in Latin." And he proceeded to read it aloud in a musical voice of exquisite charm. I cannot express the pleasure which this gave me, nor how it set me at my ease with him from that moment. He gave me a very warm invitation to come again, and he would gladly help me in any holiday work I wanted to do.

I was always specially struck with his way of talking about religion. He was very reverent in what he said, and it was evident that he was at heart deeply religious. I mention this because in later years it has been often a shock to me to find him condemned by others for doubting revealed religion.

The Professor's special views on foods were very strong, and he had a great dislike for the custom of rearing cattle for food. Once he gave a dinner party to show how many choice courses could be served with vegetarian recipes only. As my mother was ill at the time, I was invited to go with my father. I remember the delightful way in which he received us. He presented the "youngest lady" (myself) to the "oldest gentleman"— the late Professor Jarrett, who was an old college friend of his, and who was staying with Newman. I remember the awe with which I gazed at him. Mr. and Mrs. Dymond, Mr. and Mrs. Temperley Grey, and Mr. and Mrs. F. G. Comfort were among the other guests.

Once, when he was talking to my mother, he said: "You are wearing a nice coat" (a black fur one). "I suppose it is very dear? How much a yard do you think it would cost?" As he spoke he looked down at his own coat (the outside one of three), and said: "I have had this coat twenty years and cannot match the cloth." This was not to be wondered at, for it was a long hairy one—quite green with age. Another day I came into the room and heard the Professor say to my mother quite seriously: "I never can understand how it is that my hat always interests the idle little boys in the street. They say as I pass them, 'Where did you get that hat?' Everyone wears a hat of one shape or another, and I really fail to see why mine should be so very interesting."

He was wearing a soft felt hat with a very broad brim, set far back on his head; and with his peculiar American-looking beard and thin grey locks that came down over the high Gladstone collar which he always wore, and a black and white shepherd's-plaid scarf wound round his neck and twisted over in front with its ends tucked into his waistcoat, he looked sufficiently odd.

I remember once running as fast as I could to catch the post, and as I started I saw the Professor in front of me, evidently bent on attaining the same object. Great was his glee when at last I did overtake him (though I had some difficulty, for he ran well even at the age of seventy), and he said, "I thought I would give you a good race, but you have caught me up after all!"

One day he called just as I was going for a ride. He gave me quite a lecture on the dangers of the side-saddle, and said very earnestly that women ought to ride "astride" (at that time this was a thing incompris in England). He declared that women in other countries were accustomed to riding thus, and that it was the only safe method of riding.

At the time of his brother's being made Cardinal, some ardent admirers of the Professor's in Australia sent him a very beautiful silver inkstand. His delight and pleasure in receiving such a present was great. But that people should think of him in that way was a great surprise, for his humility as regarded his powers was a very noticeable fact about him always. The design of the inkstand was one of great beauty and good workmanship. It represented ostriches standing under a palm tree, and beside them was an exquisitely made silver feather for a pen.



One afternoon my father, mother, and I were all sitting reading, when the door opened and the Professor walked in. He held his hat in his hand, and a large rug was fastened round his shoulders like a shawl (over his three coats), and in his hands he held a small brown-paper parcel. As he came in he said, "I don't know why your maid did not announce me—I see she is a stranger"; and then turning to my mother, who had been ill, he said, "My cook has made a new vegetarian dish for my lunch to-day, and I requested her to make some for you, as I am quite sure it will suit you." The dish turned out to be delicious—one of those which his wonderful vegetarian cook was so constantly inventing. [Footnote: The parlourmaid, on being reprimanded for not showing Newman into the drawing-room, said she thought she was only to show "gentlemen" into the drawing-room!]

Newman had a theory that plants feel pain, and that we should treat all vegetable life as if it were sentient, and care for it accordingly.

The Professor was always ready to respond to any appeals for the advancement of the Woman's Suffrage movement. At that time it was very unpopular, but whenever we had meetings in favour of it at our house he was always the moving spirit.

At Weston-super-Mare Newman lived a life of great seclusion, and I believe I was the only young girl who visited him constantly—indeed, ours was the only house to which he came almost daily. Once when he was very ill, I think I was the only visitor admitted; and as Hannah, his old servant, ushered me in with a smile of pleasure, I heard a curious sound. On looking back to the hall door I saw a huge netting hanging from where the letter-box should be, trailing along the floor like a huge sausage, crammed full of letters of enquiry for the Professor. Hannah told me "the master had not been able to attend to them."

I had long possessed a great wish to devote my time to the study of modelling, and my father's great wish was that I should devote myself to Art. In 1885 I gained the distinction of a silver medal at Taunton Exhibition for modelling some flowers in clay on vases, with low relief panels. This pleased the Professor very much; and when, one day, I told him how keenly I wanted to model a bust of his head and shoulders, he smiled, and said, with an odd boyish, shy sort of pleasure, "Was he good- looking enough to be immortalized?" and added he would be delighted to sit to me for his portrait, though he had always refused to sit to others to be photographed.

So he used to come and talk to my mother, and thus I was able to work at my modelling with ease. Great was my delight when I found I possessed power over the clay, and was succeeding in making a portrait which everyone considered a good one. The Professor insisted on my being very particular over the collar and the scarf. (His collars always had to be made for him, as he could not buy in shops the kind he wore.) In later years of hard student life that followed, for me, with the added distinction of other medals, nothing ever came up to the excitement caused by my portrait of the Professor. The bust [Footnote: This bust is now standing in the general library of London University, with this inscription:—

"FRANCIS WILLIAM NEWMAN (brother of the Cardinal),

Emeritus Professor of University College, London. Natus June 27, 1805. Obiit October 4th, 1897. As an expression of the great esteem and affection in which he was held by all who knew him, this bust (modelled from life by the Sculptor) is presented to this University by

GEORGINA BAINSMITH, Sculptor, "St. Ives, Cornwall." Aug. 1907.] has always been one of my greatest treasures; and after the lapse of years that have gone by since it was first modelled, I still revere and reverence his memory and his truly beautiful life. Whatever he wrote, this is what his actual life and deeds expressed strongly: "he lived to do good." This is what impressed me most as a young girl, and my life has been richer and nobler for the honour and privilege of knowing Francis Newman.

Georgina Bainsmith, nee Bucknall. St. Ives, Cornwall.



CHAPTER VII

LETTERS TO ONE OF HIS GREATEST FRIENDS, DR. NICHOLSON

Dr. Nicholson, a native of Barbadoes, was only fourteen years old when his father, Rev. Mark Nicholson, came to England. [Footnote: I am indebted for these facts of Dr. Nicholson's life to some printed data kindly sent me by his daughter.] He was sent to a private school at Bristol, and went on to Oxford, where he took his B.A. degree. Later on he went to study Oriental languages at Gottingen; and there he became the pupil of the famous Dr. Ewald, Professor of Oriental Languages. At the end of his work there Dr. Nicholson obtained the Ph.D. degree. The Professor and he became close friends, and a correspondence began between them, on Dr. Nicholson's departure, which lasted unbroken till the Professor's death. He was perfectly conversant with Latin and Greek, and also Arabic, while Hebrew was almost as familiar a language; and as for his knowledge of Sanscrit, Ethiopian, Gothic, Chaldean, Syriac, French, German, Spanish, Italian, Danish, it was as perfect as could be. He had, in the truest sense, the gift of tongues. Sixteen languages, indeed, he had mastered besides his own. He had, in very truth, a perfect genius for them. And it was no slipshod attainment with him to learn any one of the sixteen; for by the time he had mastered a language he practically knew it inside and out. He loved this study perhaps more than any other, because it gave him a truer insight into Holy Scripture. Many articles on the Hebrew Scriptures were contributed by him to Kitto's Biblical Encyclopaedia, and there are many allusions to these in Newman's letters which follow. He translated Dr. Ewald's Hebrew Grammar, and thus it became well known to Englishmen.



Dr. Nicholson lived for forty years at Penrith. He did not care to go much in society; he was too true a student for that. For the two studies (and social life is certainly one) are so diametrically opposed regarded as pursuits, that it is almost impossible to make the day long enough to devote oneself to both. "Love to study" might very truly have been recognized as his life motto, even as it was that of one of the greatest students at Harrow a few years ago, Rev. Thomas Hancock, for both men cared nothing for fame. Dr. Nicholson was a man of strong religious tendencies, and though he was in no way narrow in his views of other religious societies, yet he was decidedly most in touch with the Anglican Church. As a politician he was a Liberal. Fifty years ago he married the second daughter of Captain Waring, R.N., and had six children.

He died (in November, 1886), as Rev. E. W. Chapman, Vicar of Penrith, said, "in perfect peace, with our Lord's Name and our Lord's last words on his lips. His presence in the town, his loving sympathy with poor people, his kindly greeting to all who knew him, we shall miss very much...." He added that "his whole life was spent in the study of Holy Scriptures...."

Francis Newman was his lifelong friend, and the letters which follow will plainly show that it was a friendship of kindred spirits: the friendship of two who had a great many interests in common, and were therefore in close touch with each other.

To Dr. Nicholson from Francis Newman.

"17th Feb., 1843.

"My dear Nicholson,

* * * * *

"I hope you will not bother your little boy with any foreign language too soon. Soak him well and long in his native English, or he will never come to any good, I fear. If he sees a father in love with German, he will of himself quite early take to it. The great difficulty (I should expect) will be to secure that it may not be too early. Of course you see about the Anti-Corn Law doings? I think I shall before long be as fanatical as anyone about it: I rage the more inwardly because I have no vent. I am eager to sign a solemn league and covenant about total and immediate repeal, which I suppose and hope they will get up...."

The next letter in order refers to "Berber," a language bearing some relation to the Arabic, over which Newman was at work with his dictionary. It also touches on his own ill-health and enforced idleness. It is dated from Manchester, October, 1843:—

"I have been suffering indisposition which was aggravated in reality by overrating its importance. My medical adviser said it was organic affection of the heart; in spite of my great incredulity ... I took other advice afterwards in Derby, where I went to see one of my sisters, and am now assured that it was nothing but 'the great sympathetic' that disordered the heart. I was nearly three weeks in the country and in idleness, and gained much benefit from it. I spent much indoors time in learning to use water-colours, and got a nice pony to ride, and was a great deal in the air, and very early to go to bed; and took no medicines but tonics and a colocynth pill on occasion. Myself and wife both return much better. I believe I knocked myself up by excitement of mind over the Berber and working at my dictionary, At Prichard's advice I have lately written to Bunsen to ask his aid in getting the dictionary published. I think it may be of use, as adding one more known language in North Africa to those already accessible, which are, I believe, Arabic, Coptic, Gheez, and Amharic."

In June of the same year he says, in respect of Kitto's Encyclopaedia: "Your Ahasuerus shows you to me as an invaluable contributor to him: I could not have written that (if I had had the learning) without an attack on Ezra and Esther about the word!... Mr. Jowett has sent me (at Bunsen's and Prichard's request) the chief part of the transcript of the Berber MS. in the possession of the Bible S——. I suppose I must do my best now to get deeper into the language."

In May, 1845, Newman has been greatly interested in translating into Greek, English verses "to test the possibility of retaining any Greek accent such as the books mark in singing." He has tried translating "Flow on, thou shining river" in Greek, so that it might be sung to Moore's own tune. One does not come across in his letters much reference to music, nor does it seem as if he had any great taste for it—at any rate, not in the same way as had Cardinal Newman, who had a real passion for it in earlier years.

The later part of the letter has to do with the much-vexed question of the "Maynooth Controversy."

Newman writes from "4, Cavendish Place, 12th May 1845":—

"My dear Nicholson,

* * * * *

"I venture to enclose two tunes for the Sapphic metre, Greek and Latin, to which my sister, at my request, has added an accompaniment. Will you be so kind as to get Mrs. Nicholson to play the piano while you sing it, and tell me what is to be said to it? While dabbling in some of these tunes, I have translated divers scraps of English poetry into Greek, experimentally, especially to test the possibility of retaining any Greek accent, such as the books mark, in singing. It seems to me a clear impossibility, whether emphasis or sharpness of note predominated in the accent. I have translated 'Flow on, thou shining river' to Moore's own tune, so as to retain Greek accent as well as quantity in exact agreement to the music ... the commonest metres puzzle me most....

"I wonder what you think of the Maynooth Controversy? To me it has been so puzzling a one that I have been heartily glad that nothing obliged me to express an opinion.

"Some things seem clear to me: (1) That a measure for cutting down the Church of Ireland, as by Lord Morpeth's Bill, would have been, and would now be, far better in every respect than this of Sir R. Peel; (2) that the present is a mode of perpetuating the sinecure Church of Ireland by paying the Romish, and real Church, out of English and Scotch funds. Hence it is popular with many Irish Protestants, of which Sir R. Peel boasts!" [Francis Newman seems to forget, in his frequent allusions to "Protestants", that there was a National Church in Ireland, as in England, long before the word which sprang into being at the Reformation had found its feet.]

"If they (the Government) were pleading that a Romanist people ought to be allowed to support their own Romish clergy, they could justly claim that we, as a Protestant people, would not interfere on the ground of our dislike to Romish doctrine. But when they demand to support Romanism out of common funds, they implicate us in the question, whether (on the whole) that religion contains more truth or error; and I think they force those who see it in black colours to urge the No Popery cry. So far, I am disposed to justify the Anti-Maynooth war. Sir R. Inglis may be a bigot in his view of Romanism ... but I think he is not 'out of order' in intruding the religious demerit of Romanism into a parliamentary discussion. If this measure had been thrown out, I fear Ireland would have been awfully embittered. Yet I hope the fierce opposition will stop any future scheme of keeping the sinecure church untouched and endowing the priests with imperial money.... Thus I halt between two opinions."

In November, 1843, Newman touches briefly upon the Oxford movement thus:—

"You do not seem to know that the Record has been making a fuss this last month about the Bishop of Oxford's public declaration that he never requested my brother to suppress Tract 90. All he did was to suggest that 'the publication of the Tracts be discontinued,' which meant that there was to be no No. 91. The Bishop indignantly disclaims the idea that my brother had been disobedient.

* * * * *

"I am, for a week past, resting from Berber, having written to M. d'Avezac in Paris to ask whether a report I heard is true, that he is preparing a dictionary of it. I have ordered an Amharic grammar, too, and want to compare them, but I abhor the Ethiopic type!.... I cannot get Kitto to tell me whether the sale of the Cyclopaedia is satisfactory."

As regards Irish affairs:—

"I have lately spoken at a meeting of the Friends of Ireland, and have sent to the Guardian newspaper here, [Footnote: Manchester Guardian.] in reply to their demand that I would specify some plan, a paper on Fixity of Tenure for the cottiers of Ireland. I feel no doubt that this must ere long become the great Irish question, of even more interest than the ecclesiastical one...."

And in March he gives more news of his "Berber":—

"I am again at work at the Berber MS., which I have not touched since the 1st October. The Royal Asiatic Society have accepted my offer to edit it. At present their pages are occupied with the history of Darius Hystaspis from the rocks at (I think) Besittoon, near Hemadon—the most curious document which recent research has brought to light, and, I am told, confirming in detail the accounts of Herodotus."

The two following letters to Dr. Nicholson deal chiefly with matters connected with John Sterling (who had recently died) and with Newman's arrangements for adopting one of his children.

Perhaps most people are familiar with Carlyle's biography of Sterling, but it may be as well to say here that he was a brilliant writer, a Liberal in politics, and interested himself keenly in General Torrijos and his group of Spanish exiles. When at college, at the age of nineteen, he came under the influence of Julius Hare, his tutor. When he was twenty-six he again fell in with Hare at Bonn, and here came to pass one of the mistakes of his life. Chiefly through Hare's influence he took deacon's orders, and he worked under Hare at Hurstmonceaux for the best part of a year. Very soon afterwards he began to feel the breach growing wider between his own convictions and those taught by the Church. He never, consequently, took priest's orders. Through grievous ill-health his winters were passed at Bordeaux, in Italy, or at Madeira. He died at Ventnor 18th Sept., 1843.

"While riding to-day I was meditating on the continual strain which the pulling of my horse made on the left arm, while the right was idle; and it struck me that this might conduce to the size of the muscles on that side. Also my wife always leans on the left, as being stronger in her right arm.... The hardest work I am put to is holding an umbrella against a fierce wind; and in this my right hand certainly beats my left.... I have had no bad nights since I left Manchester, except two which I attribute to an excitement on meeting my sister, whom I had not seen for eight years.... I mean to return home next Saturday. Since I left you an important change of prospect in my domestic economy has occurred. I have accepted the responsible office of guardian to the eldest son (thirteen years old) of my dear dying friend Sterling, whom I went to see at Ventnor, Isle of Wight. The lad will come to Manchester next week, and in future live in our house, and I trust I shall love him as a son. He seems a very affectionate boy. His mother died about eighteen months ago. I found my poor friend on the whole stronger than I had expected, yet steadily declining: long since convinced that his case was hopeless (and indeed expecting his end sooner than those around him), yet thoroughly calm and resigned to the gracious will of Him Who had so ordained it. Not to mourn over talents so high and a will so upright thus prematurely to be lost to us were impossible, even did I not know how truly brotherly in affection is his heart to us. He will leave six orphan children. Yet this calamity is relieved by the tenderness of his brother to them, and by the existence of adequate supplies for all reasonable wants.... Tell your little boy that I have to-day been out with a nephew of mine (Johnny Kennaway) nearly of his age, and he rides a little white pony. It was almost too spirited for him, and I was once afraid it would run away with him; but I could not do anything to help him but pull up my own horse short and call to him to do the same....

"Believe me, my dear Nicholson,

"Your affectionate friend,

"Francis W. Newman."

This letter was written from Escot, Ottery St. Mary, Devon, [Footnote: His wife's old home.] in September, 1844.

In 1841 Ward of Balliol brought out a very strong pamphlet, and accused the Reformation of many changes in the English Church; as Rev. J. B. Mozley says in his Letters, it was "a kind of strong interpretation of No. XC, just as Pusey's ... is a mollifying one, proving that No. XC says nothing but what our divines have said before." As regards "the statute", the Hebdomadal Board had early in this year "proposed a new statute" for the conferring of B.D. degrees.

"30th Dec., 1844.

"... I suppose you are busy with Ewald's [Footnote: Dr. Nicholson was the pupil of Ewald, and the first translator of his Hebrew Grammar.] Grammar.... I shall be more at rest whenever circumstances put me into that direct conflict with current opinion, which I dare not go out of my way to provoke, and yet feel it to be my natural element. My antagonism to 'things as they are'—politically, scientifically, and theologically— grows with my growth; and I believe that every year that delays change more and more endangers destruction to our social framework."

I cannot forbear quoting here from a letter recently received by me from a distant cousin of mine, Mr. George Grey Butler. He says: "I remember once at table Mr. Newman saying (when asked his attitude on various public questions), 'Oh! I am anti-slavery, anti-alcohol, anti-tobacco, anti- everything!' with a twinkle in his eye which caused an outburst of mirth amongst his listeners."

Rev. J. B. Mozley goes on to say, "Pusey will not take the test," (or statute) "that he has declared publicly ... Hussey the Professor, Eden, Baden Powell, and several Liberals, Price of Rugby, are all strong against it.... Gladstone is very strong, and thinks every exertion ought to be made against it."

On 7th Oct., 1844, Newman is expecting the arrival of the son of his old friend, John Sterling. "Edward Sterling will probably come to us to-day; his trunk is here already. I do not think you know that his father's earthly career is over.... Sterling's will is like himself. He has so strong a feeling of the wrong and absurdity of laying responsibility on people, and yet fettering their discretion, that he has left the fullest powers possible both to his brother as executor to manage his property and the other children, and to me over Edward. He has directed L300 a year to be paid me for Edward.... He was indeed a noble soul, and few know what a loss it is; but those few rate it high. As Captain Sterling (his brother) said, he had been accumulating wisdom all his life, and could he have lived twenty years more to pour it out he would indeed have left behind him a precious legacy.... Thomas Carlyle wrote a beautiful letter over him. His little son knows not at all what a father he has lost; and as for me, I want to tell him, but feel how hard it is."

In 1845 the taxes upon corn had caused great distress in England. But far worse was the trouble in Ireland; for practically, through the potato famine, owing to the thousands of acres which were blighted, there were literally thousands dying of starvation. Cheap food was far more difficult to get at there than in England, and at length at the close of the year Sir Robert Peel said he would repeal the Corn Laws altogether. In 1846 the Bill with this end in view passed through the House of Commons and House of Lords and became law. But the consequence of this measure was in effect the signal for Peel's going out of office, and his place was taken by Lord John Russell.

To return to Newman's letter.

"You perhaps know that the Liberals at Oxford are likely to side with Ward against the Heads. I do not see what else they can do; and I devoutly hope that the tangle will be irremovable except by abolishing subscriptions. Price of Rugby is all in a bristle about it. I much admire his spirit. Baden Powell protests in toto against the statute."

"6th Nov., 1845.

"My dear Nicholson,

* * * * *

"Your news about the potatoes unfortunately is no matter of private information, but rings through our ears, and I am increasingly doubtful whether we are to hope for open ports. I believe the League is right in saying that Sir Robert's next move will be for an absolutely free trade; but when that next move is to be must depend in part on his colleagues; and the country must perhaps suffer much before they come over, or he gains boldness to defy their opposition....

"If you have been reading the New Prospective, I dare say you will guess that the article on 'Church Reform' is mine. I was not sorry to get it printed, even in such a quarter—(though I know no other periodical that is free enough to dare to print it. The Westminster Review is not enough in religious circles),—because I want to send it to Churches of various grades, and get their opinion. I fear I have expressed myself too sanguinely of Dissenting Co-operation. They seem to say they will support nothing that does not go to length of alienating the whole Church property to secular uses."

On 16th April, 1846, politics are touched on again.

"16th April, 1846.

"My dear Nicholson,

"I have sent one or two 'Leagues' of late to my brother-in-law in Devonshire, thinking that they had in them matter of instruction to him.... Does not Peel appear of late to have made himself as little as of old? Yet I rejoice in his obstructing a mere Whig ministry of the orthodox kind; and although his course has heaped misery on Ireland, nothing less severe, I imagine, would brace England up to the stringent remedies which alone can save that country;—nor are we yet screwed to the point!...

"I have finished the Berber MS. as far as the Arabic had been translated, viz. twenty-eight folio pages: four more remain, of which I cannot understand either the Berber or the Arabic. I suppose neither could Mr. Hodgson understand them; for while he professes to have translated the whole of the Arabic, he has quietly omitted these. I naturally turn myself to your aid. I have quite ascertained that the Arabic and Berber do correspond....

"I am trying to move my house, i.e. to get into a new shell, further from the smoke. [Footnote: Newman had not yet left Manchester New College.] Edward Sterling's little brother, aged five and a half, is now with us; and especially for his sake I desire to have pure air.... I am sorry to say she" (Newman's wife) "is becoming more and more afflicted with rheumatism. I am about to send her to Malvern, where one of her sisters now is, to try a hydropathist physician there—a regularly educated man. As she must take little Johnny S. and her own maid, and another to help in bathings, and look after the child, it is quite a nomad eruption and waggon-load of Scythians.

"My sister's child, a boy of Johnny S.'s age, fell into the fire six or seven weeks ago, and was almost burnt to death. The poor little fellow endured agonies, but is at last nearly recovered.... It seems a wonderful recovery."

The next letter notifies his election as Latin Professor in University College.

"London. 6th July, 1846.

"My dear Nicholson,

"A few words just to say that on Saturday I was elected Latin Professor in L. U. C., and to thank you once more for your valuable aid. Hoping Mrs. N. continues well, and with kind regards to her, and the children,

"I am, ever yours affectionately,

"Francis W. Newman."



CHAPTER VIII

LETTERS TO DR. NICHOLSON FROM PROFESSOR NEWMAN DURING THE FOLLOWING YEARS: 1850 TO 1859

The first of special interest in this series of letters is dated March, 1850, and concerns Newman's Latin studies and also Indian and China affairs.

"Sir Charles Trevelyan is doing his best to introduce the English alphabet into Indian languages. He believes it, with me, to be of political, educational, and religious importance; but he seems to be opposed by all the English scholars. Edwin Norris says that even Sanscrit imported its alphabet from a foreign tongue. The number of primitive alphabets is so few, the diversity of languages so great, that nearly all tongues must have adopted foreign alphabets. I cannot therefore understand the almost a priori objections raised by the learned.... Do you attend to Indian affairs? The disbanding of our Native Indian armies, the prospect of a sure surplus in the Indian treasury, with the necessity of a conciliatory policy to all the Indian princes as soon as we are disarmed, seem to me as light pouring in through a dark cloud. But I am not easy (far from it) until we get out of this Chinese scrape. I have for years maintained that the more we fight against China the more we shall teach them the art of war; and unless we tear the empire in pieces by aiding insurrections, they must beat us at last, and become masters in the Indian seas. We cannot contend against three hundred and eighty millions of ingenious, industrious, homogeneous men under a single monarch with compact country, splendid rivers and harbours, unsurpassed soil and climate—if once we drive them to learn the art of war from America, as Peter the Great learnt it from Europe. But I seem to be insanus inter sobrios, for nobody accepts this thought from me.

"Hearty regards to you all.

"Ever yours,

"F. W. Newman."

It will be remembered that in 1851, though not until December, Louis Napoleon, nephew of Napoleon Bonaparte, had been successful in his aim of becoming President of the French Republic. But he had practically led his army through a sea of blood to reach this autocratic position. Later, in 1852, he made the French people designate him "Emperor of the French" under the title of Napoleon III.

Lord Russell had, with his ministers, brought their time of office to an end; and Lord Derby came in as Prime Minister at the head of a Conservative Party. He only remained in office a short time, however, and his successor was Lord Aberdeen, and Mr. Gladstone was Chancellor of the Exchequer.

In the letter which follows, Newman vindicates the honour of Kossuth, whose friend and helper he was when Kossuth came to England for funds to set going the new Hungarian revolution against Austria. With the views of Charles Dickens, of course, Newman had not the slightest sympathy.

"7 P.V.E., "19th Dec., 1851.

"My dear Nicholson,

* * * * *

"I never see Dickens' Household Narrative, and therefore cannot answer; but I do not believe there is any 'alternative side' against Kossuth's character. (Dickens is, in my judgment, a foolish man; he writes on centralization and despotism like an Austrian: however, so does Carlyle often.) But all that can be said against Kossuth is, that up to the age of twenty-two or twenty-three he was a thoughtless young man, who liked hunting and gambling. Since that age he is irreproachable, the proof of which is, that the Austrian Times has not a word to say against him. Their libel about the Orphan Fund was at once refuted by Count Ladislaus Vay, but they would not insert Count Vay's letter, or even acknowledge it. I think, indeed, the Continental Republicans may be proud of their leaders.

* * * * *

"Lord Palmerston seems to me to be entangled in routine and old creeds, so that he does not do all the justice he might to his better wishes; but I also think he loves place better than to carry out those wishes....

"Ever yours heartily,

"F. W. Newman."

The letter in January, 1853, which is next in order, is largely concerned with Mazzini. As is well known, Mazzini was an Italian patriot and Republican, born in the same year as was Newman. When he was only sixteen, seeing the refugees who fled from the unfortunate rising in Piedmont, he determined then and there to rescue his country when he should be old enough to do so. He made "the first great sacrifice of his life" in giving up the study of literature (which he loved) for direct political action. He joined the Carbonari in 1829, though he was not in sympathy with their aims or organization.

In 1830 he was imprisoned by the Sardinian police. There, in his prison cell, he thought out his plan of action for his country, and on being released he went and organized the "Young Italy Association." The object of it was to teach the mass of the people first to know their rights, and then to obtain them. The end of all his efforts for his people as regarded himself was this:—

In 1832 he was expelled from the country, but he managed to remain hidden at Marseilles; and from that time for twenty years he led "a life of voluntary imprisonment within the four walls of a little room." In 1844 Mazzini accused the English Government of having opened his letters and told their contents to the authorities of Italy. This set the whole of England against him, but Carlyle defended him in great measure, and testified to the worthiness of his noble struggle for his country's freedom. Later, in 1848, when the Lombard revolt broke out, he took the part of the revolutionaries with vigour.

In 1852 he planned the revolt at Mantua, and in 1853 at Milan. Others were set going later. He had started in London (with Kossuth) the European Association, and issued in September, 1855, its "republican manifesto." He strongly condemned the agreement made in 1859 between Napoleon III and Piedmont, because he foresaw its inevitable consequences. Mazzini, Garibaldi, and Cavour were a trio who largely influenced their country's destiny. Garibaldi has been called the knight-errant; Mazzini, the prophet of Italian unity; and Cavour was the hub which formed the centre of the wheel of Italy's fortunes.



"7 P.V.E. "Friday night, 28th Jan., 1853.

"My dear Nicholson,

* * * * *

"As regards Mazzini, I am both glad and sorry. I cannot pretend to know the truth, and fear to say what may unjustly disparage him; but he has fallen a little in my secret judgment. I am told (and I cannot test the assertion) that Mazzini wrote to Italy to implore his countrymen to be patient, and not to make any attempts at resistance, even though the best among them were slaughtered; and added: But if you will and must make your attempt now, then by all means I shall come—not to conquer with you; for of that I have no hope—but to die with you. Now I cannot learn whether this was simultaneously with his writing to tell us that he was in high hopes of success, and only wanted L3000 to turn probability into something like certainty. If it was simultaneous, he is not the less patriot; but he thinks 'the point of honour' requires he should tell a lie to his English friends in order to get the wherewith to die a martyr's death; and it makes it very hard to trust his simple truth in future. But if (as one friend of his thinks) Mazzini's own opinion has changed, it lowers one's notion of his discernment. In fact, it is scarcely credible to me. There are those, I find, who have lately helped him to money, expressly thinking it was a going to martyrdom, but believing he was bent on it, and that possibly he may now do more good to Italy by his death than ever he can do by his life. I cannot take this view. I believe the tyrants would have the good sense to destroy him so secretly that no moral effect should follow from his death; and if he utterly disapproved of an outbreak, I do not understand the 'honour' which should make him go to useless destruction when his life may be so valuable. It is not the same thing to an exile as to a soldier in a rank, for the exile necessarily comes too late. However, I do not know whether at this instant Mazzini may be disguised in Italy: he is so retired and so stealthy. I expect he will (be) betrayed sooner or later, if he plays so bold a game. Nevertheless I am glad that (for whatever reason) the Italians are still quiet. Louis Napoleon will certainly sooner or later get embroiled; and unless there were new facts unknown to me ... I earnestly hope they will wait. The Germans are a slow people; but they will move in time. Every German I see believes this.... 'We without them cannot be made perfect,' seems to me the clue to European oppressions. While stupid barbarism exists in masses, it will be the tool of tyranny against the more educated and refined and wealthy....

"Ever yours, "F. W. Newman."

In November, 1855, he discusses public affairs, with relation to Louis Napoleon, with Dr. Nicholson:—

"....I should indeed like to have the talk on public affairs which you suggested; but things have moved on since then! Friends of mine dread that the difficulties of French finance will precipitate Louis N. into a base peace. I argue,—it will then be into one so base that the French will not endure it. For the Russians know the French difficulties; and if proposals of peace come first from France, or if they see French action become slacker, they will yield nothing, and make sure of a peace which saves all their territory and reserves all their free action.... Only yesterday came the news of Omar Pasha's 5th November victory. Even if it be exaggerated, still the repulse at Kars and this new defeat make it impossible for Russia to make peace now without a humiliation such as L. N. cannot attempt to remove. It may so be that L. N. will be blown up by his finance and by popular discontent; it may also be that his difficulties will lead him to make popular concessions to the spirit of freedom, as is usual when great sacrifices are demanded of a nation; or it may be that he will get through with a struggle, putting French finance on a healthier footing than has ever been yet. But I think, if he stands, he must carry on the war; and the more he feels his dangers, the more vehemently will he resolve to stick at nothing necessary for success, and will bid high to get Sweden to join us, which means to despoil Russia of Finland and Poland.

"And if he is overthrown all Italy will rise, and after it Hungary, and after it Germany and Poland....

"It grieves me much that Kossuth has united his name with Ledru Rollin's; and altogether I think Kossuth is so soured by the misconduct of the Western Cabinets as to lose his soundness of judgment and fairness of reasoning.... Through 1854 his tone became more demagogic, less dignified, more defiant to authorities. He is now contemptuous to the British nation also, though I think it has throughout displayed precisely the sound instinct which he so often ascribes to nations, and from which he says a statesman must catch his inspiration. Our nation did not know what he knew—that Austria had given just ground of war to Turkey—that Turkey was ready in October, 1853, to ally with Hungary against Austria; nor could it know what were the military facilities for overthrowing Austria, nor whether the stubborn resistance of Louis Napoleon was what forced Aberdeen into his policy. But the nation since the Russian invasion of Hungary has practically felt how dangerous to all foreign liberty is the Russian power, and the absolute necessity of repressing and curtailing it; and this determination of the people has made the war a reality, has given power to that side of the Cabinet which alone was willing to go forward, has displayed itself equally in our lowest distress and our chief triumph, which Kossuth ought to honour....

"I doubt whether his union with Ledru Rollin is approved by any eminent Hungarian in England.

"While I regret all this, I yet expect Kossuth to be great again whenever action in Hungary recommences; but he cannot bear inaction well; and, alas! I make no doubt his private resources cannot bear delays. I almost begin to fear that he covets to be driven publicly to America by our Government, as less ignominious than being starved into the same step. I cannot understand ... how he fails to see that if we weaken Russia we strengthen the chances of liberty, though Aberdeen would not allow his particular policy in 1853-4. We are doing so very much more than he asked of the Americans in 1852 that the tone he assumes is wonderful. And then to scoff as he does, as though we had done nothing in destroying the Russian Black Sea Fleet and overthrowing the whole prestige of their military superiority. To have been beaten by the Turks is still more humiliating.... I wonder whether you have any alarm about America. I should have some alarm if Nicaragua and the Mosquito land were the topic of quarrel; for I think the Americans would really fight us as a single nation to hinder us establishing ourselves on American soil south of them. They sufficiently dislike our northern position....

"Very cordially yours,

"F. W. Newman."

* * * * *

We now pass to Newman's letters in the year 1856; and the first of this series speaks of the "Harry" who is mentioned elsewhere in this volume, as having been Professor Alleyne Nicholson, of Aberdeen. He was coming to stay with Professor Newman during term time:—

"7 P.V.E. R.P., "28th Oct., 1856.

"The grammar used in University College School is Key's Grammar.... Hitherto, no particular Greek Grammar has been used in the school, but Greek has been taught through Robson's Constructive Greek Exercises, which, I presume, Harry ought at once to work at.... A Greek Grammar by Mr. Greenwood is expected to be ready by Christmas, and is to be brought into the school. It will be new to all; and Harry will be on a par with the rest about it.

* * * * *

"_Robson's Constructive Latin Exercises_ ... are used in the school.... Give him" (Harry) "my very kind regards, and say that his little bedroom here looks to me desolate until he comes; but I cannot flatter him that I have anything to fill up the emptiness of heart he will feel when he loses not only papa and mamma, but also his faithful coadjutor in study— _Annie!_ Seriously, you will have to consider about his evening _amusements_, for it will not do to be studying morning and night. What think you of giving a well defined time to _drawing_ every evening? He has so much taste for drawing insects that he cannot fail in outline. We have a little room which we call 'the boy's room,' where he can put any of his Natural History collections which you think it well he should try, but we have _no butterflies to catch,—few even in summer."

* * * * *

At the end of July, Newman went to stay with Dr. Nicholson and his family at Penrith, and there are one or two notes concerning his journey tither. The next letter is dated 24th Aug., 1856. He wrote therefore when the Crimean War was still going forward. That war which, amongst mistaken policies, blundering Government tactics, and aimless ambitions, holds a foremost place. It was not till the end of the year 1855 that it came to an end. After the attack on Sebastopol, the French—whose army had suffered quite as much from the terrible winter and from disease, etc., as our own—succeeded in taking the Malakoff Tower. This made it impossible for the Russians to defend Sebastopol any longer, and in March, 1856, peace was proclaimed. Then followed Russian promises, which were made as easily as they were broken.

"7 Park Village, East. "24th August, 1856.

"My dear Nicholson,

* * * * *

"Events have proved that Russia, too, painfully knew her own weakness. Probably he" (Louis Napoleon) "already in December knew that she knew it, and the war was far too unpopular with the French to be continued except on a different policy, with new necessities and new prizes to be won. Our policy from March, 1853, to March, 1855, was so hollow and so silly, that no wisdom could afterwards bring things right, or make the results of the war worthy of the cost; but the comparative result in March, 1856, is so vast a gain over what nine out of ten of our statesmen (so called) were projecting to accept in March, 1855, that I cannot open my lips against the peace in itself. I could not in any case wish the war continued, except on new principles for worthier objects. However, Russia has really had a terrible lesson, and a great humiliation. That she could not take Silistria or Kars against Turkish troops, except by the accident of famine, will never be forgotten by German armies or statesmen.... The native Russian peasants and low persons do not yet know that the Czar was beaten; they suppose him to have conquered with immense cost; but the nobility knew the truth, and it will leak through to the lowest people, I expect, in the course of a few years. I think Europe has a respite of a quarter of a century from the incubus of Russia; and if in that interval the Hapsburgs are overthrown, all will yet come right. I fear we are still forced again (in spite of Mazzini and Kossuth) to regard the French as having the initiative of revolutions. I have resolved to give up all extra and needless effort of the brain, until I can really get rid of certain morbid symptoms, quite chronic, which distress me, so that my projected Latin analysis lies in embryo.

"... I have had satisfactory approval of my Iliad from my brother, Dr. Newman, a fastidious critic and practical poet, as also from other private quarters which I count much on; but reviews as yet do not notice me.... I have no high expectation of the very existence of the book becoming known, except slowly to many who might perhaps be glad of it if they knew it....

"Ever your faithful friend,

"F. W. Newman."

In October of the same year he thus speaks of the School of University College:—

"... The School of U.C. is remarkably full of pupils this season. My junior class has unusually old pupils; I do not yet know their quality. One (a Mr. Sassoon, a Jew?) [Footnote: Probably this was the father of the present Sir Edward Sassoon, second Baronet.] I mistook for a German, but he told me he is an Arab of Hindoo birth, and talks a little Arab and Hindostanee, but knows more of English than of any other language. His English is good, though the pronunciation is a little foreign."

In another letter, written this same month, he speaks of Mazzini as knowing that the "liberties of Italy cannot be safe without revolution either in France or Austria." That he feels it must come sooner or later, so that it would be better for Italy to act and suffer rather than to become "stupefied." Newman declares that the Governments know, and is the reason why they "hate Mazzini, since ... success in Italy will cause explosions elsewhere."

Newman goes on to say: "For myself I look at it thus. The deliverance of Italy cannot come by Governments (unless these are first revolutionized); it can only come by insurrection. No one from without can ever know or judge what is the time for hopeful insurrection: it must be done from within, and generally without plan. My sole question is, Is the cause legitimate? I find that it is. I leave Italians to judge of the time. Meanwhile every year I would give of my superfluity to the aid of patriotic effort.... To fail ten times may be necessary for success in the eleventh. If they were losing heart and becoming denationalized, the case would be bad; but it is the contrary. The fusion with Austria is impossible. The more they bleed the more they are united, and the more resolved.... My wife is cheered to learn that Harry will go to Mr. Bruce's on Sunday. A black spot had rested on her heart, I find, from fearing that he would go nowhere to church. I am sending you a corrected copy of my translation of the first chorus in Antigone, since you honour it by putting it into your Sophocles....

"Ever your affectionate friend,

"F. W. Newman. "To Dr. J. Nicholson, etc."

Another mention of the translation I also insert here. He had been able to give far more time to it than if he had been in London, for he had in September been spending some time at Ventnor. "A youth introduced to me by Mrs. Pulszky is zealous in the Greek tragedians, and I have been helping him to a little Sophocles which put me up to translating the 1st Chorus after I had been reading it with him...."

Here is the translation to which allusion is made:—

"SOPHOCLES, ANTIGONE"

1ST CHORAL SONG

1st Strophe

"O ray of the Sun, the fairest That over the rills of Dirke To Thebe the seven-gated Wast ever of yore unveil'd The eyelid of heaven gilding; At length thy splendour on us was shed, Urging to hasty reverse of rein The Argive warrior white of shield And laden in panoply all complete, Who sped in van of the routed. Stirr'd from afar against our land By Polyneikes' doubtful strife, He like an eagle soaring came, Screen'd by a wing of snow unstain'd, With many a stout accoutrement And horse-hair crested helmets.

1st Antistrophe

"At mouth of the portals seven Above our abodes he hover'd With lances that yawn'd for carnage; But vanish'd, afore his chaps With slaughter of Thebes were glutted; Afore the flicker of pitchy flame Might to the crown of turrets climb. So fierce the rattle of war around Was pour'd on his rear by the serpent-foe Hard match'd in deadly encounter. For Jove the over-vaunting tongue Supremely hates. Their full fed stream Of gold, of clatter, and of pride He saw, and smote with brandish'd flame Him, who at summit of his goal Would raise the peal of Conquest.

2nd Strophe.

"Foil'd in his frantic rush, Though still with blasts of hate against us raving, Down dropt he, torch and all, And heavy struck the Earth, who upward spurn'd him. Such auspice of the war To us was fair; and elsewhere new successes Befel, whereon the right Great Ares routing wheel'd the chariot-battle.

For, posted at the seven gates, Equals to equals, seven chiefs To trophy-bearing Jupiter Payments of solid brass bequeath'd. Save that the gloomy-hearted twain, Sprung from one mother and one sire, Planted with adverse dint the spear And earn'd a fate in common.

2nd Antistrophe

"But now, since Victory Mighty of name at length is come, delighted In car-borne Thebe's joy; Henceforth forget we battle's past annoyance. But through the livelong night Let us in sacred band approach the temples, And Bacchus to the dance— The god who shakes the soil of Thebes—be leader.

"But hither Creon, lo! proceeds, Son of Menoekeus, newly rais'd The sceptre of this land to sway. Now at new tokens of the gods, Methinks, some sage device he plies. Therefore to special parliament Hath he by general summons fetch'd This meeting of the elders."

The next letter largely concerns Persia. And it is necessary to remember that, in the early part of the nineteenth century, she began, at the suggestion of France, a most unfortunate war (as regards herself) with Russia.

In 1826 there was another war, and this cost Persia all the rest of her possessions in Armenia. The taxation of the people, which the rulers enforced to enable them to pay the expenses of the war, caused the former to rise in insurrection in 1829. The death of the Crown Prince in 1833 seemed the crowning blow to the fortunes of Persia, for he had been the only man who had seriously tried to raise his country from the depths to which she had fallen.

In 1848 the son of the Shah, who had, through the assistance of Britain and Russia, obtained the throne, came into office, and he resolved to put forward claims to Afghanistan and Beluchistan. When the ruler of Herat agreed that the Shah had claims, the English Government made the Shah sign an agreement in 1853 that he would give up pressing his claims as regarded Herat. But in 1856 the Persians retook this city, because they declared that the Ameer of Kabul was planning an advance on Herat. Thereupon a British army, commanded by General Outram and Havelock, was sent to Persia, and defeat after defeat for the Persians followed their arrival, and in July, 1857, they were compelled to give up Herat. Since then Persia has not ventured to lay her hand on the "key to India."

"7 P.V.E., London, "19th Dec., 1856.

"Dr. Barth, the African traveller, has been re-seducing (me) into the Lingua Amazighana, which I had forsworn. I am not sure that something will not come of it—to me at least. I have already built a castle in the air, that sometime hereafter I shall become 'Professor of Libyan' to U.C.

* * * * *

"How dreadful is it that we should be able to get into a war with Persia, proclaimed at Bombay on November 1st, and nobody here knows why it is or what it seeks after; and the country's honour is committed while Parliament is not even sitting. And for this we throw up Italy and ... Switzerland? Have you seen Cobden's recent letters on Maritime War? I rejoice much in them, and think adversity has improved his tone. With hearty regards to Mrs. N. and all,

"I am, ever yours,

"F. W. N."

The letters at which we have now arrived are those written during 1857. The first is dated March, and I quote some passages from it to show the Professor's own views as regards evening home preparation for boys who are working at school during the day, because it seems to me that his opinion in this matter should carry weight:—

"I much dislike a boy having both his work at school and then evening work at home, when he is getting sleepy and ought to have relaxation. It is the nuisance of day schools, and quite hurtful to study, if there is nobody at home to answer questions. Besides, Harry" (this is Harry Nicholson, mentioned two or three times in these letters as attending University College School) "is so studious of himself that it is very much to be desired that he should have time for voluntary work. I regard this as having been very beneficial to me at school, where I never had work enough set me to fill up half my time."

The letter which follows is dated April, and in it we find that "Harry" had just returned home, and that his report had testified to his diligence and progress. At the end of the letter comes this little touch as to some of the schoolboy belongings which had been left behind in Professor Newman's house. "Harry has left divers snail-shells fastened on pasteboard. Perhaps he did not know how to carry them safely."

On 6th May mention of the owner of the snail-shells recurs again:—

"Mrs. Newman was rather disappointed at the unceremoniousness of my parting with Harry. It seems like a dream his vanishing. I suppose she is like Hecuba, grieved that she could not make the funeral of Hector. (I did not even kiss Harry by proxy for her!) Most gladly does she give him up to Mrs. Nicholson; and yet, I fancy, she wanted a funeral ceremony on losing him."

Throughout these letters belonging to the year 1857, there is no special mention of the Indian Mutiny. Yet it is impossible to doubt that it occupied a great place in Newman's thoughts. No one who has written on India and our relations with her as he has done, could have failed to have written his own strong views on the lamentable mismanagement which led to the Mutiny. But most probably the letters concerning it were either not kept by Dr. Nicholson, or else Newman asked for them back, as in so many cases he was accustomed to do with regard to his own letters towards the close of his life. He had a theory that letters should not be kept, and many people have told me that he asked for his letters back in order to destroy them. Happily, however, this is not the theory which everyone holds. Indeed, to many of us, the Past lies so near the written word, that almost it re-awakens between the folds of a letter; indeed, in many instances, the Past and Present only meet across it. In this sense it is the only thing that holds up the picture of the past before our tired eyes. Litera scripta manet is a living truth. The next letter from Newman to Nicholson was written on 20th June, 1857. On 8th June of this year died Douglas Jerrold, dramatist, satirist, and author. Mr. Walter Jerrold tells us that, in 1852, he had accepted the editorship of Lloyd's Weekly Newspaper. It was said of this that he "found it in the street and annexed it to literature."

His fortune as a writer began when he was only sixteen. His capacity for work and his perseverance in working were enormous. In 1825 he wrote great numbers of plays and farces; but beside all these, he contributed, as is well known, to Punch (at its first commencement in 1841), as well as to hosts of magazines and political tracts, etc. Newman alludes to Jerrold being in receipt of L2000 a year from Lloyd's Weekly News.

I pass over the discussion as regards the Newmans' proposed visit to the Lakes, and also his expressed delight in a book, many copies of which he had just given away—Intuitive Morals and Religious Duty.

"In truth, dear friend, I get happier and happier, and only am pent up and mourn to feel how I live for self alone. I sometimes think with a sort of envy how your knowledge of medicine and tender heart for young children puts you into near and kind contact with the poor. However, we have each his own talent, if only one can find the mode of wisely disposing it.

* * * * *

"I am sorry to see that Douglas Jerrold has not left sixpence to his family, though he was in receipt of L2000 a year (they say!) from Lloyd's Weekly News."

In November another letter alludes to his Latin translations. He says he has been gradually inclining to the belief that Terence, Virgil, and Horace had "damaged" the Latin language in very much the same way as Pope did the English, as regards arbitrary style and method of writing cadences.

It is universally conceded that Horace was not a great thinker. As one of our modern English critics has said: "His philosophy is that of the market-place rather than of the schools; he does not move among high ideals or subtle emotions.... He carried on and perfected the native Roman growth, satire, so as to make Roman life from day to day, in city and country, live anew under his pen.... Before Horace, Latin lyric poetry is represented almost wholly by the brilliant but technically immature poems of Catullus; after him it ceases to exist."

As regards Pope, the critics of the end of the eighteenth century considered his style eminently artificial and forced. But to-day, according to Father Gasquet, we cannot but recognize his services to English poetry as invaluable. "He was virtually the inventor and artificer who added a new instrument of music to its majestic orchestra, a new weapon of expression to its noble armoury.... But one must admit that to the taste of the present age there occurs a certain coldness and artificiality in his portrayals alike of the face of nature and of the passions of man. He appeals rather to the brain than to the heart. Ideas and not emotions are his province.... To the metric presentment of ideas he imparts a charm of musical utterance unachieved before his time."

"30th Nov., 1857.

"My dear Nicholson,

* * * * *

"I have of late been urged by a particular circumstance to make various trials of translation into Latin (lyrical, etc.) verse—an exercise I always used to dislike, and have never much practised. I now find my dislike was largely caused by the unsuitable and over-stiff metres which used to be imposed on me when I was under orders.... In English and Greek versification I have long been aware of the essential importance of this; but I have looked on Latin as too inflexible a tongue to be worth the labour, since nearly all the translations I have seen, pall on me as mere flat imitations of the ancients instead of having a smack of the original. I have been inclining to the belief that Terence, Virgil, and Horace have done damage to the Latin language, or at least to our taste; just as Pope was the ruin of English poetry so long as he was allowed to dictate the style and cadences. In Plautus, Lucretius, and Catullus the language has a flexibility and the metres a freedom which (as I think) academicians and schoolmasters have not duly appreciated, and which ought to impart to us (when we do do anything so absurd as to write foreign verses) a freedom at which we have not generally aimed. As to metre, I think it really a folly to insist on Horace's restrictions, which are entirely his own, being neither found in the Greek, which he copied, nor in Catullus; and which made the problem of translation so much harder (and he did not translate), that one has to sacrifice too much. I think we ought to construct our metres by selection from the Greek, just as Catullus or Horace did, not imitate them slavishly. I send you one specimen of my translation, to ask whether so many as seven lines together the same is too monotonous. If there were only four or five it would be as one of Catullus's. I dare say you have the original....