TO CHARLES MANNERS ST. GEORGE, ESQ.,
STOCKHOLM.
Tunbridge Wells, Sept. 10, 1820.
On the day of our eclipse I was pleased at thinking that you were certainly looking on the same object, engaged in the same contemplations, as your mother. The weather was so fine here that we saw it to perfection. The diminution of light was apparent, and its quality seemed altered, every object assuming an appearance comparatively wan and sickly, the sky becoming of a colder blue, tending to a dull purple, and the leaves of the trees of a more yellowish green. I also thought they seemed to droop, though in a degree scarcely observable, except to a very close attention. The thermometer sunk from 78 to 73. Pray what were the peculiar appearances you observed? I should like the opinion of one who is so good a judge of colours, and of the savans of Sweden.
What papers do you take at present? The Queen’s trial was a wonderful harvest for the newspapers. I despair of giving you any idea how much England is occupied and agitated by this trial. The feeling it excites beats like a pulse through the whole kingdom. I cannot help thinking it is possible the Lords may throw out the Bill. This supposition is contrary to all common calculations, founded on the usual march of self-interest. But these are no common times; and the extraordinarily strong expression of feeling out of doors, the character of the witnesses, so exceedingly low, the improbable nature of their evidence, some touch of the immutable principles of justice, the divisions in the Cabinet, and many other working causes, may possibly effect this.
Sept. 14, Brentford. This letter was begun four days ago, and I am so far on my way to town. I have been amused, while I sat alone in the small, dull, square drawing-room of this inn, how many bookish associations this town excites. First, enter the Two Kings of Brentford, smelling to one nosegay; and Prince Prettyman, dressed in one boot, attended by their whole party, ushered in by Bayes and his friends. Next comes Pope with his imitation of Shenstone; and, lastly, the venerable Mrs. Trimmer, with all her numerous productions, domestic and literary, followed by a troop of children whom she has saved from tears and punishment by her elementary books, and bearing in her hand that sacred Volume, she so well explained, and so diligently observed. With all this good company I could well bear to wait for dinner, even if I had not the great pleasure of writing to you with that freedom from interruption one can never enjoy so fully as at an inn.