To Thomas Archer Hirst¹

My dear Tom

It is 10 oC. the last day of the old year, but so dense and dark in London streets that my candle is hardly able to enlighten the gloom. I received your paper² with your kindly greeting—a greeting which it is needless for me to reciprocate in words, inasmuch as you know it is responded to by my heart. You are gradually making your way Tom, slowly, surely, and I doubt not deeply writing your name among the world’s workers. Your papers I am told have attracted the attention of mathematicians here, Sylvester for example, deems you a very able fellow—Go on and prosper my son, and fulfil all the hopes which your father³ entertained regarding you.

I should have written to you long since, but that affair⁴ in which you take so great an interest was in a doubtful & unsatisfactory condition. They⁵ all went to Torquay⁶ on the coast of Devon early in November and remained there until the 22^nd. of December. Every thing looked as prosperous as possible; but my head began to get bad, and I wrote some letters which I think must have disturbed my friends a little. I once told her mother for example that I hated her opulence because it threw an impassable barrier in my way; I had long thought of sending them my autobiography, and your note strengthened me in this idea. In fact if I could even gain the girl’s heart I would not do it while she laboured under the slightest misapprehension regarding me.⁷ Well I sent them the sketch. A prompt reply came back, which though kind & full of noble sentiments contained a passage or two which stirred me. For instance she (M^rs D.) said that ‘though “May” (we call her May) was not to be won her friendship was mine, and the affectionate esteem of a highminded woman was not to be lightly thrown away.’ My first impulse was when I read the letter to tear it up and have done with the matter. —but on reflection I saw that other passages in the letter quite neutralized the above, so I did not know what to think. I wrote asking to be releived⁸ from my engagement on X mas day. I had a prompt reply⁹—‘it might do me good to have a run in the country, but then I must come to them on X mas eve’. This note contained no trace of coolness, I said in reply to it, that I had looked into it searching for a trace of coldness, but finding none it would be stupid, if not cowardly, to back out of my engagement: ‘If then said I you really wish me to dine with you on X mas day tell me the hour & I will be there’. Throughout the week I had no reply to this—it was written in a very independent style & I thought I had offended them. Well X mas eve came, I had just said to Faraday, who was in the laboratory with me, that it was my intention to have a solitary dinner in the country on X mas day, when a messenger came to say that M^rs. D. was up stairs & wished to see me. Of course I was with her in a moment & I was so glad to see her that I could not help kissing her tender little hand. She came to tell me their arrangements for X mas day. I was to go at 1oC. and have luncheon, then to Westminster Abbey to hear the chanting—then home again to dinner. ‘Are you alone at present’ I asked—‘no she said’ May is in the carriage at the door’. I was soon at the carriage—and stood at the door talking—‘get in!’ said M^rs D. You can’t talk there—so I did get in and we had such a jolly ten minutes in the carriage—

Next day I was with them of course, and a most genial happy day it was. I remained with them till 11. P.M. One other gentleman,¹⁰ brother of the Education man Sir James Kay Shuttleworth¹¹ was with us & that was all. He has known them for longer than I have and is as fine & lovable a fellow as ever I met: full of truth, thought & feeling—he is a barrister and loves poetry—and possibly may love somebody else not May¹²—but I like him very much. He read some poetry for me, and I thought & told him of your reading the Raven¹³ and In Memoriam¹⁴ for me, and the furze bushes¹⁵ of the General’s field.¹⁶ I have seen my girl¹⁷ many times since—I saw her last night. She is just turned 22, and I believe a dozen fellows at least have proposed to her within the last 4 years. She is a very true and noble girl, and I think—though I am almost afraid to express it—I think that she loves me—It is certain that I love her. I have known her for 3 years & a half, so that she has had no time to love any body else. Of course when I think of it dear Tom the whole thing looks more like a romance than a reality. I have seen that girl in her mother’s receptions, surrounded by fine young fellows, with bishops, lords, and marquises her mothers guests, and to think of her choosing me almost bewilders me. Mind she has not told me that she chooses me, and even two days ago I received a peremptory order from her mother not to write to May—telling me that she has resisted many an agonized entreaty for permission to write to her, saying that she was very particular & bidding me to take care—I do not care a straw for the order. For now that my sight is clear I see plainly enough that May has felt kindly towards me for a long long time—but my sceptical, proud heart, kept me from believing this. I am sure I have afflicted her greatly, and I must try to make amends for it in the future—

Goodbye my dear Tom, & God bless you | Ever affectionately yours | John Tyndall

Of course this is all entre nous.¹⁸

RI MS JT/1/T/648