[My Dear Old Joe:
I ]knew you would be likely to graduate into an ass if I came away; [& ] so you have—if you have stopped smoking. However, I have a strong faith that it is not too late, yet, & that the judiciously managed influence of a bad example will fetch you back again.1
I wish you had written me some news—Livy tells me precious little. She mainly writes to hurry me home & to tell me how much she respects me: but she’s generally pretty slow on news. I had a letter from her along with yours, today, but she didn’t tell me the book is out.2 However, it’s all right. I hope to be home 20 days from today, & then I’ll see her, & that will make up for a whole year’s dearth of news. I am right down grateful that she is looking strong & “lovelier than ever.” I only wish I could see her look her level best, once—I think it would be a vision.
I have just spent a good part of this day browsing through the Royal Academy Exhibition of Landseer’s paintings. They fill four or five great salons, & must number a good many hundreds. This is the only opportunity ever to see them, because the finest of them belong to the queen & she keeps them in her private apartments. Ah, they’re wonderfully beautiful! There are such rich moonlights & dusks in “The Challenge” & “The Combat;” & in that long flight of birds across a lake in the subdued flush of sunset (or sunrise—for no man can ever tell tother from which in a picture, except it has the filmy morning mist breathing itself up from the water). And there is such a grave analytical profundity in the faces of “The Connoisseurs;” & such pathos in the picture of the fawn suckling its dead mother, on a snowy waste, with only the blood in the footprints to hint that she is not asleep. And the way he makes animals absolute flesh & blood—insomuch that if the room were darkened ever so little & a motionless living animal placed beside a painted one, no man could tell which was which.3
————
I interrupted myself here, to drop a line to Shirley Brooks & suggest a cartoon for Punch. It was this. In one of the Academy salons (in the suite where these pictures are), a fine bust of Landseer stands on a pedestal in the centre of the room. I suggest that some of Landseer’s best known animals be represented as having come down out of their frames in the moonlight & grouped themselves about the bust in mourning attitudes.4
Well, old man, I am powerful glad to hear from you & shall be powerful glad to see you & Harmony.5 I am not going to the provinces because I cannot get halls that are large enough. I always felt cramped in Hanover Square Rooms, but I find that everybody here speaks with awe & respect of that prodigious place, & wonder that I could fill it so long.6
I am hoping to be back in 20 days, but I have so much to go home to & enjoy with a jubilant joy, that it seems hardly possible that it can ever come to pass in so uncertain a world as this.
I have read the novel here, & I like it.7 I have made no inquiries about it, though. My interest in a book ceases with the printing of [it. ]
With a world of love,
Explanatory Notes | Textual Commentary
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In this same hall Dickens used to read, and when Mark
took it people were turned from the door on the last nights of his
first week. It was a dangerous experiment to think of renewing the
season after the interval of a month, during which time he went to
America and returned; but he opened his new season to good business,
and lectured seven times a week for three consecutive weeks in
London, closing the engagement in the most satisfactory manner.
(Charles Warren Stoddard 1874)![]()
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Previous publication:
L6, 11–13; MTB, 1:499–500, excerpts.
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Emendations and textual notes:![]()
London, Jan. 5 1874. • London, Jan. 5 1874.
My Dear Old Joe: [¶] I • [¶]My dear old Joe,—I
& • and [here and hereafter]
it. • it.—
Saml. • Saml.