m it would have afforded him great pleasure to be allowed to
name.' It might have been said with truth that the 'greater part' of the
illustrations were contributed by the same anonymous benefactor, who was,
I have very little doubt, FitzGerald himself. I have in my possession a
copy of the Table Talk which he gave me about 1871 or 1872, with
annotations in his own handwriting, and these are almost literally
reproduced in the Notes to Singer's Edition. Of this copy FitzGerald
wrote to me, 'What notes I have appended are worth nothing, I suspect;
though I remember that the advice of the present Chancellor {231} was
asked in some cases.'

_To E. B. Cowell_.

GELDESTONE, _Jan_. 13/48.

MY DEAR COWELL,

. . . I suppose you have seen Carlyle's thirty-five Cromwell letters in
Fraser. I see the Athenaeum is picking holes with them too: and I
certainly had a misgiving that Squire of Yarmouth must have pieced out
the erosions of 'the vermin' by one or two hotheaded guesses of his own.
But I am sure, both from the general matter of the letters, and from
Squire's own bodily presence, that he did not forge them. Carlyle has
made a bungle of the whole business; and is fairly twitted by the
Athenaeum for talking so loud about his veneration for Cromwell, etc.,
and yet not stirring himself to travel a hundred miles to see and save
such memorials as he talks of.

BOULGE, _Wednesday_.
[_Jan._ 25, 1848.]

MY DEAR COWELL,

I liked your paper on the Mesnavi {232} very much; both your criticism
and your Mosaic legend. That I may not seem to give you careless and
undistinguishing praise, I will tell you that I could not quite hook on
the latter part of Moses to the former; did you leave out any necessary
link of the chain in the hiatus you made? or is the inconsequence only in
my brains? So much for the legend: and I must reprehend you for one tiny
bit of Cockney about Memory's rosary at the end of your article, which,
but for that, I liked so much.

So judges Fitz-Dennis; who, you must know by this time, has the judgment
of Moliere's old woman, and the captiousness of Dennis. Ten years ago I
might have been vext to see you striding along in Sanscrit and Persian so
fast; reading so much; remembering all; writing about it so well. But
now I am glad to see any man do any thing well; and I know that it is my
vocation to stand and wait, and know within myself whether it is done
well.

I have just finished, all but the last