Your faithful L——.
LETTER VII.
London, Dec. 9th, 1826.
Dearest Friend,
It is not uninteresting to attend the auctions here; first, on account of the multitude of extremely rare and valuable things, which form the wonderful activity of life and the constant vicissitudes of fortune are daily brought into the market, and often sold very cheap; and secondly, for the ingenuity and eloquence of the auctioneers, of which I have already made honourable mention. They embroider their orations with more wit gratis, than ours would be willing to furnish for ready money.
This morning I saw the sale of an Indian cabinet, the property of a bankrupt Nabob, which contained some curious and beautiful works of art. “The possessor of these treasures,” said the orator, “has taken much trouble for nothing; for nothing to himself, I mean, but a great deal to you, gentlemen. He had once doubtless more money than wit, but has now, as certainly, more wit than money.” “Modesty and merit,” observed he afterwards, “go together only thus far,—both begin with an m.” And in this style, and with such ‘jeus de mots,’ he continued. “What enables the poor to live?” concluded he. “Charity or liberality do but little towards it. Vanity, vanity is the thing,—not theirs, poor devils, but that of the rich. If you then, gentlemen, will but display a little of this praiseworthy vanity, and buy, you will earn a blessing even without meaning it.”
Yes, truly, thought I, there you are right, old jester, for so admirably is the world contrived, that good must ever arise out of evil; and the existence of evil only serves to render the good which succeeds it more conspicuous.
I dined at the house of a lady of distinction, who talked to me the whole time we were at table about Napoleon, and, with true English exaggeration, was so enamoured of him, that she thought the execution of the Duke d’Enghien, and the betrayal of Spain, laudable acts.
Though I do not go quite so far, I am, as you know, an admirer of this man’s colossal greatness, and delighted my neighbour highly by describing to her Napoleon’s former magnificence, of which I was an eyewitness,—those brilliant days in which Cæsar himself stood amazed at his splendour;