here too. I have begun again to read Calderon with Cowell: the
Magico we have just read, a very grand thing. I suppose Calderon was
over-praised some twenty years ago: for the last twenty it has been the
fashion to underpraise him, I am sure. His Drama may not be the finest
in the world: one sees how often too he wrote in the fashion of his time
and country: but he is a wonderful fellow: one of the Great Men of the
world.

* * * * *

In October 1852 Thackeray sailed for America and before leaving wrote to
FitzGerald the letter which he copied for Archdeacon Allen. I shall I
trust be pardoned for thinking that others will be the better for reading
the words of 'noble kindness' in which Thackeray took leave of his
friend.

[BOULGE, 22 _Nov._ 1852.]

MY DEAR ALLEN,

I won't send you Thackeray's own letter because it is his own delegation
of a little trust I would not hazard. But on the other side of the page
I write a copy: for your eyes only: for I would not wish to show even its
noble kindness to any but one who has known him as closely as myself.

_From W. M. Thackeray to E. F. G._

_October_ 27, 1852.

MY DEAREST OLD FRIEND,

I mustn't go away without shaking your hand, and saying Farewell and God
Bless you. If anything happens to me, you by these presents must get
ready the Book of Ballads which you like, and which I had not time to
prepare before embarking on this voyage. And I should like my daughters
to remember that you are the best and oldest friend their Father ever
had, and that you would act as such: as my literary executor and so
forth. My Books would yield a something as copyrights: and, should
anything occur, I have commissioned friends in good place to get a
Pension for my poor little wife. . . . Does not this sound gloomily?
Well: who knows what Fate is in store: and I feel not at all downcast,
but very grave and solemn just at the brink of a great voyage.

I shall send you a copy of Esmond to-morrow or so which you shall yawn
over when you are inclined. But the great comfort I have in thinking
about my dear old boy is that recollection of our youth when we loved
each other as I do now while I write Farewell.

Laurence has done a capital head of me ordered by Smith the Publisher:
and I have ordered a copy and Lord Ashburton another. If Smith gives me
this one, I shall send the copy to you. I care for you as you know, and
always like to think that I am fondly and affectionately yo