reet. Maclise is a handsome and fine fellow, I
think: and Landseer is very good natured. I long for my old Alfred
portrait here sometimes: but you had better keep it for the present. W.
Browne and Spedding are with me, good representatives one of the Vita
Contemplativa, the other of the Vita Attiva. Spedding, if you tell him
this, will not allow that he has not the elements of Action in him: nor
has he not: nor has not the other those of contemplation: but each
inclines a different way notwithstanding. I wish you and Spedding could
come down here: though there is little to see, and to eat. When you
write you must put _Woodbridge_ after Boulge. This letter of yours went
to Bury St. Edmunds, for want of that. I hear Alfred Tennyson is in very
good looks: mind and paint him _quickly_ when he comes to town; looking
full at you.

_To Bernard Barton_.

19 CHARLOTTE ST.,
RATHBONE PLACE.
[1844.]

DEAR BARTON,

I got here but yesterday, from Bedford, where I left W. Browne in train
to be married to a rich woman. When I heard that they could not have
less than five hundred a year, I gave up all further interest in the
matter: for I could not wish a reasonable couple more. W. B. may be
spoilt if he grows rich: that is the only thing could spoil him. This
time ten years I first went to ride and fish with him about the river
Ouse--he was then 18--quick to love and quick to fight--full of
confidence, generosity, and the glorious spirit of Youth. . . . I shall
go to Church and hope he mayn't be defiled with the filthy pitch. Oh! if
we could be brought to open our eyes. I repent in ashes for reviling the
Daddy who wrote that Sonnet against damned Riches.

I heard a man preach at Bedford in a way that shook my soul. He
described the crucifixion in a way that put the scene before his
people--no fine words, and metaphors: but first one nail struck into one
hand, and then into another, and one through both feet--the cross lifted
up with God in man's image distended upon it. And the sneers of the
priests below--'Look at that fellow there--look at him--he talked of
saving others, etc.' And then the sun veiled his face in Blood, etc. I
certainly have heard oratory now--of the Lord Chatham kind, only Matthews
has more faith in Christ than Pitt in his majority. I was almost as much
taken aback as the poor folks all about me who sobbed: and I hate this
beastly London more and more. It stinks all through of churchyards