Your book I got, and read through all that seemed to concern me the first
day. I have doubted whether it would be most considerate to return you
thanks for it, making you pay for a letter: or to leave you thankless,
with a shilling more in your pocket. You see I have taken the latter [?
former], and God forgive me for it. The book is a good one, I think, as
any book is, that notes down facts alone, especially about health. I
wish we had diaries of the lives of half the unknown men that have lived.
Like all other men who have got a theory into their heads, I can only see
things in the light of that theory; and whatever is brought to me to
convince me to the contrary is only wrought and tortured to my view of
the question. This lasts till a reaction is brought about by some of the
usual means: as time, and love of novelty, etc. I am still very
obstinate and persist in my practices. I do not think Stark is an
instance of vegetable diet: consider how many things he tried grossly
animal: lard, and butter, and fat: besides thwarting Nature in every way
by eating when he wanted not to eat, and the contrary. Besides the
editor says in the preface that he thinks his death was brought about as
much by vexation as by the course of his diet: but I suppose the truth is
that vexation could not have had so strong hold except upon a weakened
body. However, altogether I do not at all admit Stark to be any
instance: to be set up like a scarecrow to frighten us from the corn,
etc. Last night I went to hear a man lecture at Owen of Lanark's
establishment (where I had never been before), and the subject happened
to be about Vegetable Diet: but it was only the termination of a former
lecture, so that I suppose all the good arguments (if there were any)
were gone before. Do you know anything of a book by a Doctor Lamb upon
this subject? I do not feel it to be disgusting to talk of myself upon
this subject, because I think there is great interest in the subject
itself. So I shall say that I am just now very well: in fine spirits. I
have only eaten meat once for many weeks: and that was at a party where I
did not like to be singled out. Neither have I tasted wine, except two
or three times. If I fail at last I shall think it a very great bore:
but assuredly the first cut of a leg of mutton will be some consolation
for my wounded judgement: that first cut is a fine thing. So much for
this. . . . Have you heard that Arthur Malkin is to be married? to a
Miss Carr, with what Addison might call a pleasing fortune: or perhaps
Nicholas Rowe. 'Sweet, pleasing friendship, etc. etc.' Mrs. Malkin is
in high spirits about it, I hear: and I am very glad indeed. God send
that you have not heard this before: for a man likes to be the first
teller of a pretty piece of news. Spedding and I went to see Macready in
Hamlet the other night: with which he was pretty well content, but not
wholly. For my part, I have given up deciding on how Hamlet should be
played: or rather have decided it shouldn't be played at all. I take
pleasure in reading things I don't wholly understand; just as the old
women like sermons: I think it is of a piece with an admiration of all
Nature around us. I think there is a greater charm in the half meanings
and glimpses of meaning that come in through Blake's wilder visions:
though his difficulties arose from a very different source from
Shakespeare's. But somewhat too much of this. I suspect I have found
out this as an useful solution, when I am asked the meaning of any thing
that I am admiring, and don't know it.
Believe me, dear Donne, to be ever your affectionate friend,