Meredith’s Letters.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLVIII, Issue 20, 13 November 1912, Page 35

Meredith’s Letters.

The following are extracts from the George Meredith letters appearing in “Scribner’s.” On the subject of love to Captain Maxse he is most earnest:

“My friend, I have written of love and never felt it till now.—l have much to pass through in raking up my history with the first woman that held me. But I would pass through fire for my darling,

and all that I have to endure seems little for the immense gain 1 hope to get. When her hand rests in mine, the world seems to hold its breath, and the sun is moveless. I take hold of Eternity. I love her.” Independence of thought and brilliance of expression characterise these poet’s letters. "Little writers,” he urges, “should be

realistic. They would then at least do solid work They intHct the world because they will attempt that it is given to none but noble workmen to achieve. A great genius must necessarily employ ideal means, for a vast conception cannot be placed bodily before the eye. and remains to be suggested. . . . Men to whom I bow my head (Shakespeare, Goethe; and in their way’, Moliere, Cervantes), are Realists au fond. But they

have the broad arms of Idealism at command. They give us Earth; but it is earth with an atmosphere. One may find as much amusement in a kaleidoscope a<s in a merely idealistic writer; and, just as sound prose is of more worth than pretentious poetry, I hold the man who gives a plain wall of fact higher in esteem than one who is constantly shuffling the clouds and dealing with airy, delicate

sentimentalities, headless and tailless imaginings, despising our good, plain strength.” Of other writers he has strong views. Mill “is essentially a criticHe

does not touch the <oul ami springs of the Universe as C arlyle does." “I hold that Carlyle is the nearest to being an inspired writer of any man in our times; he does proclaim inviolable

law; he speaks from the deep springs of life. All this. But when he descends to our common pavement, when he would apply hw eminent spiritual wisdom to the course of legislation, he is no more sagacious nor useful nor temperate than a Hash of lightning in a gro?er*s shop.” And from Meredith, who was never a “popular” writer, it is noteworthy to read this: “A man who hopes to b? popular must think from the mass, and as the heart of the mass. If he follows out vagaries of his own brain he cannot hope for

general esteem; and he doe»s the smaller work. “Modern Love” as a dissection of th* sentimental passion of these days could only be apprehended by the few who would read it many times. I have not looked for it to succeed. Why did I write it? —Who can account for pres