TO MRS. LEADBEATER.
Bursledon Lodge, Aug. 3, 1814.
We are again alone, living like those ‘in the world before the flood’—gardening, admiring the flowers and the clouds, conversing, singing, playing with our children, hiding from the visits of our neighbours, and devising excuses to avoid their hot, ceremonious, long, and fine dinners, surrounded by people dressed out as for an assembly;—‘for, my dear ma’am, this is a delightful neighbourhood; we never dine at home except with company;’—something equivalent to this eulogium I have often heard pronounced here.
I am very far from despising either the fine arts or their effects in awakening the dormant seeds of genius; and I believe The Society of Friends profit in their manners and enjoyments by the insensible and general atmosphere of those arts they contemn. But I am sure, as individuals, your self-denial in this matter causes your expenses to flow in streams more conducive to the comfort and advantage of yourselves and others than ours do. In comparison with the greater number, we are peculiarly reasonable on this subject (am I not like the Pharisee?), yet I am often surprised to see how much we sacrifice at the shrine of frivolity, fancied pleasures, and beaux arts.
I saw not Mad. de Staël, who has left an unpleasing impression in London,—except on a few, worth all the rest. People expected her to be well dressed, well-looking, soft-mannered, refined; making no allowance for the effects of study, composition, energy, anxiety, and all the disturbances which must affect a woman whose life has been employed in the pursuit of literary fame.
TO CHARLES M. ST. GEORGE, ESQ.,
THE HAGUE.
Bursledon Lodge, Aug., 1814.
I believe my Baron Breteuil’s maxim is just for common minds, ‘il faut savoir s’ennuyer.’ This is necessary to them, because if they do not ennuyer themselves, they will often do worse. But it is, like most of his maxims, quite unfit for the uses of a superior character. Such ought not to ennuyer themselves. If they really find their resources fail, they should be satisfied something is wrong in them or the life they have adopted, and should struggle to release themselves from a state so foreign to their well-being. You possess a love of study, and the four golden keys which will introduce you to the most brilliant assembly of the dead—Greek, Latin, English, French. The first introduces you to those who have instructed, the next, to those who have conquered, mankind; the third, to her who has been the depository of true religion, pure morality, refined taste; and the fourth, to one who, among many striking advantages, may consider it as her proudest boast, that she is entitled in some things to be the rival of England herself.