"spirituality," "melancholy" which he himself catalogued as the cradle
gifts of the Celt. Crossed, indeed, always, with the Rugby
"earnestness," with that in him which came to him from his father.

It is curious to watch the growing perception of "Matt's" powers among
the circle of his nearest kin, as it is reflected in these family
letters to the emigrant brother, which reached him across the seas from
1847 to 1856, and now lie under my hand. The _Poems by A._ came out, as
all lovers of English poetry know, in 1849. My grandmother writes to my
father in March of that year, after protesting that she has not much
news to give him:

But the little volume of Poems!--that is indeed a subject of new and
very great interest. By degrees we hear more of public opinion
concerning them, and I am very much mistaken if their power both in
thought and execution is not more and more felt and acknowledged. I
had a letter from dear Miss Fenwick to-day, whose first impressions
were that they were by _you_, for it seems she had heard of the
volume as much admired, and as by one of the family, and she had
hardly thought it could be by one so moving in the busy haunts of
men as dear Matt.... Matt himself says: "I have learned a good
deal as to what is _practicable_ from the objections of people,
even when I thought them not reasonable, and in some degree they
may determine my course as to publishing; e.g., I had thoughts of
publishing another volume of short poems next spring, and a tragedy
I have long had in my head, the spring after: at present I shall
leave the short poems to take their chance, only writing them
when I cannot help it, and try to get on with my Tragedy
('Merope'), which however will not be a very quick affair. But as
that must be in a regular and usual form, it may perhaps, if it