Thus, observe, I enter into no question at present as to the absolute rightness of King Edward's fighting, which caused, that day, at Calais, the deaths of more than four hundred innocent men; nor as to the absolute wrongness of the four Irishmen's fighting, which causes only the death of one, (--who also may, for aught I know, have done something really seeming evil to the dull creatures)--but there is no doubt that the King fought wholly without wrath, and without doubting his rightness; and they with vile wrath and miserable consciousness of doing wrong; and that you have in the two scenes, as perfect types as I can put before you of entirely good ancient French breeding, and entirely bad modern British breeding. Breeding;--observe the word; I mean it literally; involving first the race--and then the habits enforced in youth: entirely excluding intellectual conclusions. The "breeding" of a man is what he gets from the Centaur Chiron; the "beastly" part of him in a good sense;--that which makes him courageous by instinct, true by instinct, loving by instinct, as a Dog is; and therefore felicitously above or below (whichever you like to call it,) all questions of philosophy and divinity. And of both the Centaur Chiron, and St. George, one, the typical Greek tutor of gentlemen, and the other, the type of Christian gentlemen, I meant to tell you in this letter; and the Third Fors won't let me, yet, and I scarcely know when; for before we leave King Edward, lest you should suppose I mean to set him up for a saint instead of St. George, you must hear the truth of his first interview with Alice of Salisbury,--(he had seen her married, but not noticed her then, particularly,)--wherein you will see him becoming doubtful, and of little faith, or distorted faith, "miscreant"; but the lady Alice no wise doubtful; wherefore she becomes worthy to give the shield of England its "tressure" and St. George's company their watchword, as aforesaid. But her story must not be told in the same letter with that of our modern British courage; and now that I think of it, St. George's had better be first told in February, when, I hope, some crocuses will be up, and an amaryllis or two, St. George having much interest in both. NOTES AND CORRESPONDENCE. In an interesting letter "for self and mates" a Manchester working man asks me the meaning of "Fors Clavigera" (surely enough explained in II. 4?) and whether I mean by vulgarity "commonness," and why I say that doing anything in a hurry is vulgar. I do not mean by vulgarity, commonness. A daisy is common; and a baby, not uncommon. Neither are vulgar. Has my correspondent really no perception of the difference between good breeding and vulgarity?--if he will tell me this, I will try to answer him more distinctly: meantime, if in the Salford Library there is a copy of my 'Modern Painters,' let him look at Vol. V., Part IX., Chap. VII. He says also that he and his mates must do many things in a hurry.