something at once pathetic and ridiculous and altogether
miserable and contemptible in the fact you at last announce that by one
caprice and another of human folly perversity and general length of ear,
our poor little enterprize is definitively forbidden to us. Alas, our
poor little 'inscription,' so far as I remember it, was not more criminal
than that of a number on a milestone; in fact the whole adventure was
like that of setting up an authentic _milestone_ in a tract of country
(spiritual and physical) mournfully in want of measurement; that was
_our_ highly innocent offer had the unfortunate Rulers of the Element in
that quarter been able to perceive it at all! Well; since they haven't,
one thing at least is clear, that our attempt is finished, and that from
this hour we will devoutly give it up. That of shifting the now existing
pyramid from Naseby village and rebuilding it on Broadmoor seems to me
entirely inadmissible;--and in fact unless _you_ yourself should resolve,
which I don't counsel, on marking, by way of foot-note, on the now
existing pyramid, accurately how many yards off and in what direction the
real battle ground lies from it, there is nothing visible to me which can
without ridiculous impropriety be done.

The trouble and bother you have had with all this, which I know are very
great, cannot be repaid you, dear old friend, except by my pious
thankfulness, which I can well assure you shall not be wanting. But
actual _money_, much or little, which the surrounding blockheads
connected with this matter have first and last cost you, this I do
request that you will accurately sum up that I may pay the half of it, as
is my clear debt and right. This I do still expect from you; after which
_Finis_ upon this matter for ever and a day. . . .

Good be ever with you, dear FitzGerald,
I am and remain Yours truly
(_Signed_) T. CARLYLE.

_To W. F. Pollock_.

[16 _Dec._ 1873.]

. . . What do you think I am reading? Voltaire's 'Pucelle': the Epic he
was fitted for. It is poor in Invention, I think: but wonderful for easy
Wit, and the Verse much more agreeable to me than the regularly rhymed
Alexandrines. I think Byron was indebted to it in his Vision of
Judgment, and Juan: his best works. There are fine things too: as when
Grisbourdon suddenly slain tells his Story to the Devils in Hell where he
unexpectedly makes his Appearance,

Et tout l'Enfer en rit d'assez bon coeur.

This is nearer the S