natural dramatic
play of language in his work, the stilted rhetoric. And when I heard
Rachel in the Cid, I thought, by the rapid, undramatic way in which she
hurried through his declamations, while, in a few exclamatory bursts,
she swept everything before her, that she justified my criticism. But
this was the misfortune of Corneille; he walked in shackles imposed
by the taste of his time. Yet it was a lofty stride. I am particularly
struck with his grand moral ideals. I wish I had a good life of him. He
must have been a good man. Like Beethoven and Michael Angelo, he does
not seem to have liked flattery, court, or ceremony. But I guess that is
the case with most men of the higher genius. . . .

As ever,

ORVILLE DEWEY.

To Miss Catherine M. Sea'gwitk.

SHEFFIELD, Aug. 27, 1866.

MY DEAR FRIEND,--It is some time since I have written to you, and I
am almost afraid you are glad of it, not having to answer. You must
acknowledge, however, that I have always offered you the easiest terms
of exchange; two for one, three, four, anything you liked. . . . I have
been lately with Mr. Bryant, in his great affliction, staying with my
sisters, who occupy one of his cottages, but spending all the time I
could with him. It was very sad,--talking upon many things as we did,
and much upon those things that were pressing upon his mind, for he felt
that he was losing his chief earthly [291] treasure. His wife was
that to him, by her simplicity, her simple truthfulness, her perfect
sincerity and heart-earnestness, latterly of a very religious character,
and by her good judgment also; he told me that he always consulted her
upon everything he published, and found that her opinion was always
confirmed by that of the public, that is, as to the relative merit of
his writings. He was bound to her the more, because his ties of close
affection with others are so very few. Sometimes he could not repress
his tears in our talking; and they told me that in the morning, when
he went to her bedside, he often sat weeping, saying, "You have been
suffering all night, and I have been sleeping." In the last days she
longed to depart, and often said to him, "You must let me go; I want to
go" And so she went, peacefully to her rest.

We have had a very pleasant visit from Mr. R. . . . His visits are
always a great pleasure to us, both for the talk we have, and the music.
It is really a great thing to know anything as he knows music. As I
listened to h