Our friend Barton is certainly one of the most remarkable men of the Age. After writing to Peel two separate Sonnets, begging him to retire to Tamworth and not alter the Corn Laws, he finally sends him another letter to ask if he will be present at Lord Northampton’s soirée next Saturday; Barton himself being about to go to that soirée, and wishing to see the Premier. On which Peel writes him a most good humoured note asking him to dine at Whitehall Gardens on that same Saturday! And the good Barton is going up for that purpose. [203] All this is great simplicity in Barton: and really announces an
internal Faith that is creditable to this Age, and almost unexpected in it. I had advised him not to send Peel many more Sonnets till the Corn Law was passed; the Indian war arranged; and Oregon settled: but Barton sees no dragon in the way.
We have actors now at Woodbridge. A Mr. Gill who was low comedian in the Norwich now manages a troop of his own here. His wife was a Miss Vining; she is a pretty woman, and a lively pleasant actress, not vulgar. I have been to see some of the old comedies with great pleasure; and last night I sat in a pigeon-hole with David Fisher and ‘revolved many memories’ of old days and old plays. I don’t think he drinks so much now: but he looks all ready to blossom out into carbuncles.
We all liked your Athenæum address much; [204a] which I believe I told you before. I have heard nothing of books or friends. I shall hope to see you some time this spring.
To E. B. Cowell. [204b]
[1846]
Dear Cowell,
I am glad you have bought Spinoza. I am in no sort of hurry for him: you may keep him a year if you like. I shall perhaps never read him now I have him. Thank you for the trouble you took. . . .
Your Hafiz is fine: and his tavern world is a sad and just idea. I did not send that vine leaf [205a] to A. T. but I have not forgotten it. It sticks in my mind.
“In Time’s fleeting river
The image of that little vine-leaf lay,
Immovably unquiet—and for ever
It trembles—but it cannot pass away.” [205b]