Edward FitzGerald and Posh | Page 4

the association between
FitzGerald and Posh ended in a separation that was very nearly a
quarrel, if a man like FitzGerald can be said to quarrel with a man like
Posh. But Posh never says a word against his old guv'nor's generosity
and kindness of heart. He puts his point of view with emphasis, but
always maintains that had it not been for other "interfarin' parties" there
would never have been any unpleasantness between him and the great

man who loved him so well, and whom, I believe in all sincerity, he
still loves as a kind, upright, and noble-hearted gentleman.
And as Posh's years draw to a close (he was born in June, 1838) I think
his thoughts must often hark back to the days when he was all in all to
his guv'nor. For evil times have come on the old fellow. He is no longer
the hale, stalwart man I first saw at Bill Harrison's.
A little before the Christmas of 1906 he was laid up with a severe cold.
But he was getting over that well, when, one Sunday, a broken man,
almost decrepit, came stumbling to my cottage door.
"The pore old lady ha' gorn," he said. "She ha' gorn fust arter all. Pore
old dare. She had a strook the night afore last, and was dead afore
mornin'."
Into the circumstances of his old landlady's death, of the action of her
legal personal representatives, I will not go here. It suffices to say that
Posh and the other lodgers in the house were given two days to "clear
out" and that I discovered that the old fellow had been sleeping in his
shed on the beach for two nights, without a roof which he could call his
home. Thanks to certain readers of the Daily Graphic and to the
members of the Omar Khayyam Club, I had a fund in hand for Posh's
benefit, and immediately put a stop to his homelessness. Indeed, he
knew of this fund, and that he could draw on it at need when he chose.
But I believe the old man's heart was broken. He has never been the
same man since. The last year has put more than ten years on the looks
and bearing of the Posh whom I met first. But his memory is still good,
and I was surprised to see how much he remembered of the people
mentioned in the letters published in this volume when I read them
through to him the other day. He cannot understand how it is that these
letters have any value. He tells me he has torn up "sackfuls on 'em" and
strewn them to the winds. The actual letters have been sold for his
benefit, and I think that FitzGerald would be pleased if he knew (as
possibly he does know) that his letters to his fisherman friend, have
proved a stay to his old age.
{Posh in 1907: p26.jpg}

I have done my best to give approximate dates to the letters, and where
I have succeeded in being absolutely correct I have to thank Dr. Aldis
Wright, whose courtesy and kindliness, the courtesy and kindliness
from a veteran to a tyro which is so encouraging to the tyro, have been
beyond any expression of thanks which I can phrase. I hope that the
letters and notes may help to make a side of FitzGerald, the simple
human manly side, better known, and to enable my readers to judge his
memory from the point of view of those old shrimpers by the new basin
as a "good gennleman," as a noble-hearted, courageous man, as well as
the more artificial scholar who quotes Attic scholiasts in a playful way
as though they were school classics. Every new discovery of
FitzGerald's life seems to create new wonder, new admiration for him;
and there are, I hope, few who will read without some emotion not far
from tears the sentence in his sermon to Posh.
"Do not let a poor, old, solitary, and sad Man (as I really am, in spite of
my Jokes), do not, I say, let me waste my Anxiety in vain. I thought I
had done with new Likings: and I had a more easy Life perhaps on that
account: now I shall often think of you with uneasiness, for the very
reason that I had so much Liking and Interest for you."
CHAPTER I
THE MEETING
The biography of a hero written by his valet would be interesting, and,
according to proverbial wisdom, unbiased by the heroic repute of its
subject. But it would be artificial for all that. Even though the hero be
no hero to his valet, the valet is fully aware of his master's fame; indeed,
the man will be so inconsistent as to