elf as few men have been; and let all
carpers look at what he did. He prepared all these papers for
publication with his own hand; all his wife's complaints, all the
evidence of his own misconduct: who else would have done so much? Is
repentance, which God accepts, to have no avail with men? nor even with
the dead? I have heard too much against the thrawn, discomfortable dog:
dead he is, and we may be glad of it; but he was a better man than most
of us, no less patently than he was a worse. To fill the world with
whining is against all my views: I do not like impiety. But--but--there
are two sides to all things, and the old scalded baby had his noble
side.--Ever affectionate son,

R. L. S.

TO SIDNEY COLVIN

_Bonallie Towers, Bournemouth, January 1885._

DEAR S. C.,--I have addressed a letter to the G. O. M. _a propos_ of
Wellington; and I became aware, you will be interested to hear, of an
overwhelming respect for the old gentleman. I can _blaguer_ his
failures; but when you actually address him, and bring the two statures
and records to confrontation, dismay is the result. By mere continuance
of years, he must impose; the man who helped to rule England before I
was conceived, strikes me with a new sense of greatness and antiquity,
when I must actually beard him with the cold forms of correspondence. I
shied at the necessity of calling him plain "Sir"! Had he been "My
lord," I had been happier; no, I am no equalitarian. Honour to whom
honour is due; and if to none, why, then, honour to the old!

These, O Slade Professor, are my unvarnished sentiments: I was a little
surprised to find them so extreme, and therefore I communicate the fact.

Belabour thy brains, as to whom it would be well to question. I have a
small space; I wish to make a popular book, nowhere obscure, nowhere, if
it can be helped, unhuman. It seems to me the most hopeful plan to tell
the tale, so far as may be, by anecdote. He did not die till so
recently, there must be hundreds who remember him, and thousands who
have still ungarnered stories. Dear man, to the breach! Up, soldier of
the iron dook, up, Slades, and at 'em! (which, conclusively, he did not
say: the at 'em-ic theory is to be dismissed). You know piles of fellows
who must reek with matter; help! help! I am going to try
Happy-and-Glorious-long-to-reign-over-us. H.M. must remember things: and
it is my belief, if my letter could be discreetly introduced, she would
lik