"I think one is apt to talk very extravagantly of his [Byron's] poetry; for it is the poetry of passion and carries away the sober judgment. It defies criticism from its very nature, being lawless, independent of all rules, sometimes of grammar, and even of common sense. When he means to be strong he is often affected, violent, morbid.... But then there is, with all this smoke and fustian, a deep sensibility to the sublime and beautiful in nature, a wonderful melody, or rather harmony, of language, consisting ... in a variety--the variety of nature--in which startling ruggedness is relieved by soft and cultivated graces." Probably the most pungent bit of literary comment that Prescott ever wrote is found in a letter of his addressed to Bancroft,[22] who had sent him a copy of Carlyle's _French Revolution_. The clangour and fury of this book could hardly fail to jar upon the nerves of so decorously classical a writer as Prescott. "I return you Carlyle with my thanks. I have read as much of him as I could stand. After a very candid desire to relish him, I must say I do not at all. The French Revolution is a most lamentable comedy and requires nothing but the simplest statement of facts to freeze one's blood. To attempt to colour so highly what nature has already over-coloured is, it appears to me, in very bad taste and produces a grotesque and ludicrous effect.... Then such ridiculous affectations of new-fangled words! Carlyle is ever a bungler in his own business; for his creations or rather combinations are the most discordant and awkward possible. As he runs altogether for dramatic or rather picturesque effect, he is not to be challenged, I suppose, for want of refined views. This forms no part of his plan. His views, certainly, so far as I can estimate them, are trite enough. And, in short, the whole thing ... both as to _forme_ and to _fond_, is perfectly contemptible." Of Thackeray, Prescott saw quite a little during the novelist's visit to America in 1852-1853, and several times entertained him. He did not greatly care for the lectures on the English humorists, which, as Thackeray confided to Prescott, caused America to "rain dollars." "I do not think he made much of an impression as a critic, but the Thackeray vein is rich in what is better than cold criticism." Thackeray on his side expresses his admiration for Prescott in the opening sentences of _The Virginians_, though without naming him:--