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Updated: May 1, 2025
Clough's Bothie, p. 125 See his Latin verses addressed to Dr. See ante, ii. 157. See ante, i. 449. See ante, ii. 99. See ante, iii 198, note 1. 'Such is the laxity of Highland conversation, that the inquirer is kept in continual suspense, and by a kind of intellectual retrogradation knows less as he hears more. Johnson's Works, ix. 47.
Clough's "Bothie" poem whose singular merit has hitherto failed of the wide appreciation it deserves followed not long after; and Kingsley's "Andromeda" is yet damp from the press.
To settle down to the old humdrum round of Civil Service promotion seemed to my father impossible. This revolt of his, and its effect upon his friends, of whom the most intimate was Arthur Clough, has left its mark on Clough's poem, the "Vacation Pastoral," which he called "The Bothie of Tober-na-Vuolich," or, as it runs in my father's old battered copy which lies before me, "Tober-na-Fuosich."
Without the aid of physical causes, the exquisite sensitiveness of the poet's spirit is sometimes regarded as enough to produce illness. Arnold, likewise, in Thyrsis, follows the poetic tradition in thus vaguely accounting for Clough's death: Some life of men unblest He knew, which made him droop, and filled his head.
These changes amount sometimes to entire new translation, sometimes consist merely in the correction of a few words. Throughout, the hand of the thorough scholar is apparent. But Mr. Clough's labors have not been merely those of reviser and corrector. He has added greatly to the value of the work by occasional concise foot-notes, as well as by notes contained in an appendix to each volume.
She's a good lass enough, but good 'uns mak' as much trouble as t' bad 'uns sometimes, I think. It's Jonathan's daughter, Mary. She's ta'en Ben's fancy, and she's ta'en Bill Laycock's fancy, too. T' lass likes my Ben, and Clough he liked Laycock; for Laycock is t' blacksmith now, and owns t' forge, and t' house behind it. My Ben is nobbut Clough's overlooker."
"Nor did Clough's great powers ever realize themselves to his contemporaries by any outward sign at all commensurate with the profound impression which they produced in actual life. But if his powers did not, there was much in his character that did produce its full effect upon all who knew him. He never looked, even in time of severe trial, to his own interest or advancement.
Is he not about to place between himself and the forms of speculative truth some barrier of sense and matter to give up the real for the apparent, the substance for the shadow? One is reminded of Clough's cry under a somewhat similar experience: "If this pure solace should desert my mind, What were all else? I dare not risk the loss. To the old paths, my soul!"
The Mediterranean civilization, older and more sophisticated, is careful to get its values right; the northern man is bent on doing something big, no matter what, and follows Clough's advice: Go! say not in thine heart, And what then, were it accomplished, Were the wild impulse allayed, what is the use and the good?
Another set of verses, written between the ages of fourteen and fifteen, which are worth recalling from the point of view of metre include some English hexameters. I was inspired to write them by an intense admiration of Clough's Amours de Voyage, an admiration which grows greater, not lesser, with years.
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