line. But the oddest sign of the Times I know, is a cheap Translation

of Strauss's _Leben Jesu_, now publishing in numbers, and said to be
circulating far and wide. What does--or rather, what does not--this

portend?"--
With the Poem called _The Election_, here alluded to, which had been

more than once revised and reconsidered, he was still under some
hesitations; but at last had well-nigh resolved, as from the first it

was clear he would do, on publishing it. This occupied some
occasional portion of his thoughts. But his grand private affair, I

believe, was now _Strafford_; to which, or to its adjuncts, all
working hours were devoted. Sterling's notions of Tragedy are high

enough. This is what he writes once, in reference to his own task in
these weeks: "Few, I fancy, know how much harder it is to write a

Tragedy than to realize or be one. Every man has in his heart and
lot, if he pleases, and too many whether they please or no, all the

woes of OEdipus and Antigone. But it takes the One, the Sophocles of
a thousand years, to utter these in the full depth and harmony of

creative song. Curious, by the way, how that Dramatic Form of the old
Greek, with only some superficial changes, remains a law not only for

the stage, but for the thoughts of all Poets; and what a charm it has
even for the reader who never saw a theatre. The Greek Plays and

Shakspeare have interested a hundred as books, for one who has seen
their writings acted. How lightly does the mere clown, the idle

school-girl, build a private theatre in the fancy, and laugh or weep
with Falstaff and Macbeth: with how entire an oblivion of the

artificial nature of the whole contrivance, which thus compels them to
be their own architects, machinists, scene-painters, and actors! In

fact, the artifice succeeds,--becomes grounded in the substance of the
soul: and every one loves to feel how he is thus brought face to face

with the brave, the fair, the woful and the great of all past ages;
looks into their eyes, and feels the beatings of their hearts; and

reads, over the shoulder, the secret written tablets of the busiest
and the largest brains; while the Juggler, by whose cunning the whole

strange beautiful absurdity is set in motion, keeps himself hidden;
sings loud with a mouth unmoving as that of a statue, and makes the

human race cheat itself unanimously and delightfully by the illusion
that he preordains; while as an obscure Fate, he sits invisible, and

hardly lets his being be divined by those who cannot flee him. The
Lyric Art is childish, and the Epic barbarous, compared to this. But

of the true and perfect Drama it may be said, as of even higher
mysteries, Who is sufficient for these things?"--On this _Tragedy of

Strafford_, writing it and again writing it, studying for it, and
bending himself with his whole strength to do his best on it, he

expended many strenuous months,--"above a year of his life," he
computes, in all.

For the rest, what Falmouth has to give him he is willing to take, and
mingles freely in it. In Hare's Collection there is given a _Lecture_

which he read in Autumn, 1841 (Mr. Hare says "1842," by mistake), to a
certain Public Institution in the place,--of which more anon;--a piece

interesting in this, if not much in any other respect. Doubtless his
friends the Foxes were at the heart of that lecturing enterprise, and

had urged and solicited him. Something like proficiency in certain
branches of science, as I have understood, characterized one or more

of this estimable family; love of knowledge, taste for art, wish to
consort with wisdom and wise men, were the tendencies of all; to

opulent means superadd the Quaker beneficence, Quaker purity and
reverence, there is a circle in which wise men also may love to be.

Sterling made acquaintance here with whatever of notable in worthy
persons or things might be afoot in those parts; and was led thereby,

now and then, into pleasant reunions, in new circles of activity,
which might otherwise have continued foreign to him. The good

Calvert, too, was now here; and intended to remain;--which he mostly
did henceforth, lodging in Sterling's neighborhood, so long as lodging

in this world was permitted him. Still good and clear and cheerful;
still a lively comrade, within doors or without,--a diligent rider

always,--though now wearing visibly weaker, and less able to exert
himself.

Among those accidental Falmouth reunions, perhaps the notablest for
Sterling occurred in this his first season. There is in Falmouth an

Association called the _Cornwall Polytechnic Society_, established
about twenty years ago, and supported by the wealthy people of the

Town and neighborhood, for the encouragement of the arts in that
region; it has its Library, its Museum, some kind of Annual Exhibition

withal; gives prizes, publishes reports: the main patrons, I believe,
are Sir Charles Lemon, a well-known country gentleman of those parts,

and the Messrs. Fox. To this, so far as he liked to go in it,
Sterling was sure to be introduced and solicited. The Polytechnic

meeting of 1841 was unusually" target="_blank" title="ad.异常地；非常">unusuallydistinguished; and Sterling's part in it
formed one of the pleasant occurrences for him in Falmouth. It was

here that, among other profitable as well as pleasant things, he made
acquaintance with Professor Owen (an event of which I too had my

benefit in due time, and still have): the bigger assemblage called
_British Association_, which met at Plymouth this year, having now

just finished its affairs there, Owen and other distinguished persons
had taken Falmouth in their route from it. Sterling's account of this

Polytechnic gala still remains,--in three Letters to his Father,
which, omitting the extraneous portions, I will give in one,--as a

piece worth reading among those still-life pictures:--
"To Edward Sterling, Esq., Knightsbridge, London_.

"FALMOUTH, 10th August, 1841.
"MY DEAR FATHER,--I was not well for a day or two after you went; and

since, I have been busy about an annual show of the Polytechnic
Society here, in which my friends take much interest, and for which I

have been acting as one of the judges in the department of the Fine
Arts, and have written a little Report for them. As I have not said

that Falmouth is as eminent as Athens or Florence, perhaps the
Committee will not adopt my statement. But if they do, it will be of

some use; for I have hinted, as delicately as possible, that people
should not paint historical pictures before they have the power of

drawing a decentoutline of a pig or a cabbage. I saw Sir Charles
Lemon yesterday, who was kind as well as civil in his manner; and

promises to be a pleasant neighbor. There are several of the British
Association heroes here; but not Whewell, or any one whom I know."

"_August 17th_.--At the Polytechnic Meeting here we had several very
eminent men; among others, Professor Owen, said to be the first of

comparative anatomists, and Conybeare the geologist. Both of these
gave evening Lectures; and after Conybeare's, at which I happened to

be present, I said I would, if they chose, make some remarks on the
Busts which happened to be standing there, intended for prizes in the

department of the Fine Arts. They agreed gladly. The heads were
Homer, Pericles, Augustus, Dante and Michael Angelo. I got into the

box-like platform, with these on a shelf before me; and began a talk
which must have lasted some three quarters of an hour; describing

partly the characters and circumstances of the men, illustrated by
anecdotes and compared with their physiognomies, and partly the

several styles of sculpture exhibited in the Casts, referring these to
what I considered the true principles of the Art. The subject was one

that interests me, and I got on in famous style; and had both pit and
galleries all applauding, in a way that had had no precedent during

any other part of the meeting. Conybeare paid me high compliments;
Owen looked much pleased,--an honor well purchased by a year's hard

work;--and everybody, in short, seemed delighted. Susan was not
there, and I had nothing to make me nervous; so that I worked away

freely, and got vigorously over the ground. After so many years'
disuse of rhetoric, it was a pleasant surprise to myself to find that

I could still handle the old weapons without awkwardness. More by
good luck than good guidance, it has done my health no harm. I have

been at Sir Charles Lemon's, though only to pay a morning visit,
having declined to stay there or dine, the hours not suiting me. They

were very civil. The person I saw most of was his sister, Lady
Dunstanville; a pleasant, well-informed and well-bred woman. He seems

a most amiable, kindly man, of fair good sense and cultivated
tastes.--I had a letter to-day from my Mother [in Scotland]; who says

she sent you one which you were to forward me; which I hope soon to
have."

"_August 29th_.--I returned yesterday from Carclew, Sir C. Lemon's
fine place about five miles off; where I had been staying a couple of

days, with apparently" target="_blank" title="ad.显然，表面上地">apparently the heartiest welcome. Susan was asked; but