Edward FitzGerald and Posh | Page 3

(twopenny), for which he will call in preference to any
other liquid.
"Tha'ss like this here, master," said he. "I ha' had enow o' folks a comin'

here an' pickin' my brains and runnin' off wi' my letters and never givin'
me so much as a sixpence."
"Oho!" I thought. "That's where the rub is."
I gave him a trifling guarantee of good faith, and his face brightened up.
Gradually I overcame his reserve, and gradually I persuaded him that I
did not seek to rob him of anything. I'm a bit of a sailor myself, and I
think a little talk of winds, shoals, seas, and landmarks did more than
the trifling guarantee of good faith to establish friendly relations with
the old fellow.
But he made no secret of his grievance, and I tell the tale as he told it,
without vouching for its accuracy, but confident that he believed that he
was telling me the truth. And, if he was, the man referred to in his story,
the man who robbed him to all intents and purposes, is hereby invited
to do something to purge his offence by coming forward and "behaving
like a gennleman"--upon which I will answer for it that all will be
forgiven and forgotten by Posh.
"Ye see, master," said Posh, "that was a Mr. Earle" (I don't know if that
is the correct way of spelling the name, because Posh is no great
authority on spelling; but that's how he pronounced it) "come here,
that'll be six or seven year ago, and he axed me about the guv'nor, and
for me to show him any letters I had. He took a score or so away wi'm,
and he took my phootoo and I told him a sight o' things, thinkin' he was
a gennleman. Well, he axed me round to Marine Parade, where he was
a stayin' with his lady, and he give me one drink o' whisky. And that's
all I see of him. He was off with the letters and all, and never gave me a
farden for what he had or what he l'arnt off o' me. I heerd arterwards as
the letters was sold by auction for thutty pound. I see it in the paper. If
he'd ha' sent me five pound I'd ha' been content. But he niver give me
nothin' but that one drink. And ye see, master, I didn't know as yew
worn't one o' the same breed!"
I have endeavoured to trace these letters, and to identify this Mr. Earle.
Mr. Clement Shorter has been kind enough to do his best to help me.
No record can be found. And to clinch matters, Dr. Aldis Wright

(whom I cannot thank enough for all his kindness to me in connection
with this volume) tells me that he has never been able to find out where
the letters are or who has them. One thing is certain: the person who
took advantage of Posh's ignorance will not be able to publish his
ill-gotten gains in England so long as any copyright exists in the letters.
For no letter of FitzGerald's can be published without the consent of Dr.
Aldis Wright, and he is not the man to permit capital to be made out of
sharp practice with his consent. I have heard rumours of certain letters
to Posh being published in America, with a photograph of Posh and
Posh's "shud." They may have been published under the impression that
they were properly in the possession of the person holding them. I
know nothing of that, nor of what letters they are, nor who published
them, nor when and where they were issued. But I do know what Posh
has told me, and if the volume (if there is one) was published in
America by one innocent of trickery, here is his chance to come
forward and explain.
I was glad to see that Posh no longer numbered me among "that breed."
But I was no longer surprised at the difficulty I had experienced in
getting to close quarters with the man. From that time on he was the
plain-speaking, independent, humorous, rough man that he is naturally.
He has his faults. FitzGerald indicates one in several of his letters. He
is inclined to that East Anglian characteristic akin to Boer "slimness,"
and it is easy enough to understand that the breach between him and his
"guv'nor" was inevitable. The marvel is that the partnership lasted as
long as it did, and that that refined, honourable gentleman (and I doubt
if any one was ever quite so perfect a gentleman as Edward FitzGerald)
was as infatuated with the breezy stalwart comeliness of the man as his
letters prove him to have been.
As all students of FitzGerald's letters know,