and Shield should hold a like scroll, only on it should be written the first bars of
A flaxen-headed ploughboy.
‘He was fond of telling a story of Handel, which I, at least, have never seen in print. When Handel was blind he composed his “Samson,” in which there is that most touching of all songs, specially to any one whose powers of sight are waning—“Total Eclipse.” Mr. Beard was the great tenor singer of the day, who was to sing this song. Handel sent for him, “Mr. Beard,” he said, “I cannot sing it as it should be sung, but I can tell you how it ought to be sung.” And then he sang it, with what strange pathos need not be told. Beard stood listening, and when it was finished said, with tears in his eyes, “But Mr. Handel, I can never sing it like that.” And so he would tell the story with tears in his voice, such as
those best remember, who ever heard him read some piece of his dear old Crabbe, and break down in the reading.’
With this I will conclude, and I have only now to express my sincere thanks to all who have entrusted me with letters addressed to themselves or to those whom they represent. It has been my endeavour to justify their confidence by discretion. To Messrs. Richard Bentley and Son I am indebted for permission to reprint Virgil’s Garden from the Temple Bar Magazine. [0a]
The portrait is from a photograph by Cade and White of Ipswich taken in 1873.
William Aldis Wright.
Trinity College, Cambridge.
20 May, 1889.
LETTERS OF EDWARD FITZGERALD
Edward FitzGerald was born at Bredfield House in Suffolk, an old Jacobean mansion about two miles from Woodbridge, on the 31st of March, 1809. He was the third son of John Purcell, who married his cousin Mary Frances FitzGerald, and upon the death of her father in 1818 took the name and arms of FitzGerald. In 1816 Mr. Purcell went to France, and for a time settled with his family at St. Germains. FitzGerald in later life would often speak of the royal hunting parties which he remembered seeing in the forest. They afterwards removed to Paris, occupying the house in which Robespierre had once lived, and here FitzGerald had for his drillmaster one of Napoleon’s Old Guard. Even at this early period the vivacious humour which afterwards characterized him appears to have shewn itself, for his father writing to some friends in England speaks of little