Dearest Friend,
At length the long-desired letter is arrived, and another in its company. Why was it so long on the road?—‘Quien sabbe?’ as the South Americans say. Probably the official reader was lazy, and let it lie by him some time before he would take the trouble to re-seal it dexterously.
But, dear Julia, how pretty and tender is your poem—a new talent, which I never discovered in you before. Yes, may God grant that “all your tears may turn to flowers, to adorn us and refresh us with their fragrance!” and that this beautiful and loving prophecy may soon be fulfilled! And yet the fairest flowers would be too dearly bought, for me, at that price. Your tears at least ought not to flow to produce them.
What you say of H——, “qu’il se sent misérable parcequ’il n’est fier que par orgueil et libéral que par bassesse” is striking, and will unfortunately suit too many liberals.
I wrote to you on the occasion in question, that you should think only of yourself; and you reply, that I am yourself. Best and kindest! yes, one self we will remain wherever we may be; and had men guardian spirits, ours must act in common: but here we have no other tutelary genius than that moral strength which Heaven has given us.
And is it really so melancholy in M——? You tell me of storms and torrents of rain that threaten destruction. But a fortnight has passed since that was written—before this reaches you it will be a month. I shall hope therefore that you are reading it in the midst of the green spring, with every thing blooming around you, and with the zephyr fanning you instead of the furious wind. I told my old B——dt that there were terrible storms in M——. “Ja, ja,” replied he, “those are the Brighton ones.” If you had known that, dearest Julia, you would have thought them more agreeable, for they would have brought you the latest news of your friend. I beg you to give my most sincere and heartfelt thanks to our honoured Premier. Were all of his class like him, how much more popular would government be! Were all Ministers as high-minded and as upright, how would the universal discontent be diminished! and how much more free and independent would they themselves be of those many weights which drag them down, just when it is most necessary they should soar!
All goes on here as usual. This evening, a splendid fête at Lord H——’s closed the Easter festivities. Most fashionable people now make another short stay in the country, and in a fortnight hence the season proper begins. I am going back to Brighton for a few days, but shall wait for the Lord Mayor’s dinner.
April 16th.
This took place to-day in Guildhall; and now that I have recovered from the fatigue, I am extremely glad I went.
It lasted full six hours, and six hundred people were present. The tables were set parallel from the top to the bottom of the hall, with the exception of one which was placed across it, at the top. At this the Lord Mayor himself and his most distinguished guests were seated. The ‘coup d’œil’ from hence was imposing;—the vast hall and its lofty columns, the tables extending further than the eye could reach, and the huge mirrors behind them, so that they seemed prolonged to infinity. The brilliant illumination turned night into day; and two bands of music, in a balcony at the end of the hall opposite to us, played during the toasts, which were all of a national character. The Lord Mayor made six-and-twenty speeches, long and short, well and truly counted. A foreign diplomate also ventured upon one, but with very bad success, and had it not been for the good-nature of the audience, who called out ‘Hear, hear!’ every time he was at fault, till he had collected himself again, he must have stuck fast, and so remained.