t imagination; and on my repeating this to
Mrs. Browning, she said it was exactly her impression. For my part I
am struck by the extravagance and the total want of finish and of
constructive power, and I am in hopes that ultimately good will come
out of evil, for Mr. Kingsley has written, he tells me, a paper
called "Alexander Pope and Alexander Smith," and Mr. Willmott, the
powerful critic of The Times, takes the same view, he tells me, and
will doubtless put it into print some day or other, so that the
carrying this bad school to excess will work for good. By the way,
Mr. ----, whose Imogen is so beautiful, sent me the other day a
terrible wild affair in that style, and I wrote him a frank letter,
which my sincere admiration for what he does well gives me some
right to do. He has in him the making of a great poet; but, if he
once take to these obscurities, he is lost. I hope I have not
offended him, for I think it is a real talent, and I feel the
strongest interest in him. My young friend, James Payn, went a
fortnight or three weeks ago to Lasswade and spent an evening with
Mr. De Quincey. He speaks of him just as you do, marvellously fine
in point of conversation, looking like an old beggar, but with the
manners of a prince, "if," adds James Payn, "we may understand by
that all that is intelligent and courteous and charming." (I suppose
he means such manners as our Emperor's.) He began by saying that his
life was a mere misery to him from nerves, and that he could only
render it endurable by a semi-inebriation with opium. (I always
thought he had not left opium off.).... On his return, James Payn
again visited Harriet Martineau, who talked frankly about _the_
book, exculpating Mr. Atkinson and taking all the blame to herself.
She asked if I had read it, and on finding that I had not, said, "It
was better so." There are fine points about Harriet Martineau. Mrs.
Browning is positively crazy about the spirit-rappings. She believes
every story, European or American, and says our Emperor consults the
mediums, which I disbelieve.

The above was written yesterday. To-day has brought me a charming
letter from Miss De Quincey. She has been very ill, but is now back
at Lasswade, and longing most earnestly to persuade her father to
return to Grasmere. Will she succeed? She sends me a charmin