[Postmark: May 15, 1846]
E/R
The sun is warm, and the day, I suppose, is fine, — but
my Ba will have been kept at home by the vile wind — most
vile — even I feel it ! So the spring passes away without the
true spring feeling — all the blossoms are fast going already
— and one’s spirits are affected, I dare say. Did you not
think me intolerable yesterday with my yawning and other
signs of fatigue you noticed? Well now — I do think a
little is said by all that : might one not like or even love . .
just short of true love, so long as the spirits were buoyant
and the mind cheerful, — and when the contrary befell, some
change might appear, surely !
The more I need you the more I love you, Ba — and I
need you always — in joy, to make the joy seem what it is —
and in any melancholy that I can imagine, more still, in-
finitely more, I need you — though melancholy, I certainly was
not — only tired a little . . all I mean to say is, that at times
when I could, I think, shut up Shelley, and turn aside from
Beethoven, and look away from my noble Polidoro, — my
Ba’s ring — not to say the hand — ah, you know, Ba, what
they are to me !
I have to go out to-day, to my sorrow — to the Garrick
Club, and a friend there. (My sister tells me we have to go
to the Flower-show next Wednesday unless the day be
rainy. I shall hear from Mr. Kenyon, I expect.)
Let me end the chapter we began yesterday, about
speech-making and adepts in it of various kinds, by telling you
what my father made me laugh by an account of, the other
day . . only it should be really told, and not written. He
had a curiosity to know how would-be Parliamentary members
canvassed . . and as the Chamberlain of the City, Sir
James Shaw, came into the Bank for that purpose (there
being Livery men there, or whatever they are called, with
votes) my father followed to hear how he would address
people. Sir James, a gigantic man, went about as his
friends directed . . or rather pushed and shoved him . . and
whenever they reached an Elector the whole cortfege stopped.
Sir James made his speech, the friends, book and pencil in
hand, recorded the promise the moment it was made, and
forthwith wheeled round their candidate to the next man . .
no word of speechification being to be wasted once its
object accomplished, since time pressed — so now fancy.
Friends (to Sir J) ‘ Mr Snooks, Sir James ! ‘ Sir J. (with
his eyes shut, and head two feet above Snooks) ‘ When Charles
Fox came into Parliament, he came into Parliament with
a profusion of promises, of which I’ll defy Charles Fox’s
best friends to say that he ever kept a single one ‘ — (Friends
twitch him)—’ Thankee Sir,’—’ Mr Smith.’ ‘ When Charles
Fox came into Parliament . . thankee. Sir’ — ‘ Mr Thompson ‘
— ‘ When Charles Fox . . thankee ! ‘ &c. &c. And so
on from man to man, never getting beyond this instructive
piece of anecdotical history — till at the very last a little
Elector, reaching to the great man’s elbow, let him go to
the full length of the sentence’s tether from admiration of
such an orator . . did not say briefly ‘ yes ‘or ‘ no ‘ as the
others had done. So Sir James arrived duly at . . ‘ kept
a single one. Thus — if . . as it were . . eh ? oh ! ‘ Here
he opened his eyes with a start, missing the pushing and
driving from his friends in the rear — and finding it was only
this little man ; he abruptly stopped . . was not going to
spend more eloquence on him ! There, Ba ; you tell me
you write nonsense . . I do the thing}, the precise thing !
But no more nonsense because I am going to kiss you,
which is wise, and love you with my whole heart and soul
forever, which is wiser, and pray you to love me, dear, dear
Ba, which is the wisest ! Sweetest, may God bless you, —
Your very own.