TO CHARLES MANNERS ST. GEORGE, ESQ.,
STOCKHOLM.
Elm Lodge, Feb. 9, 1823.
In the depth of my present retirement I can talk to you only of public events. Are they not highly interesting? Two such names as Greece and Spain engaged in contests, both for liberty, one for existence; France on the verge of some change, from merely natural causes—the advanced age and ill health of her monarch; Russia collecting all her strength to act the part of the King of Beasts, Tollo, sum Leo, whenever any opportunity offers; Italy holding her breath for a time. In England, ‘motley’s your only wear;’ suicide from distress of mind attendant on ruined fortunes common among three-fourths of our population, and an exulting air of prosperity beaming around the remainder, who are profiting by low prices and increased possessions; Cobbett consorting with the magnates of the land, consulted and addressed by the patrons and superiors of those who hissed him to silence four years since. The singularities of Ireland are more singular, you know, than of any other country. Four years since, the populace threw stones at their constant and well-tried friend and protector, Grattan; while now a powerful party have shown animosity against the dignified Wellesley, whose presence was expected to heal all dissensions. He is, however, supported by all but that party, and, upon the whole, I believe the play-house riot was productive of a great mass of happiness, by giving the writers, talkers, and partisans of our talkative, expansive, and party-loving countrymen, a débouche for their effusions. It is certain no single bottle ever inspired so many words.
TO THE SAME.
Elm Lodge, Feb. 23, 1823.
Politics are interesting enough now to occupy a large portion of one’s mind, particularly when one feels that politics are but humanity on a large scale. Instead of seeing one steady machine of government going slowly but surely on to its purpose, with occasional attacks from systematic bodies of foes, whose opposition one might calculate, and who now slightly retarded its movements, now were crushed by its progress, we have a complete orrery, and do not in the least know what planet or what comet will draw attention next. Canning has been eclipsed by Robinson, whose speech announcing the remission of two millions of taxes has been admired more than any other of the opening Session. It may owe this in some degree to the subject of its communication, which found an echo in every pocket through the kingdom.
March 29, 1823.—Temporary separations between parents and children being designed by Providence for frequent occurrence, bring with them unexpected sources of consolation, and a new set of pleasures, not so constant, but perhaps more vivid, than any which attend even the delightful intercourse between them. An unexpected letter, the conversation of a stranger who has seen one’s child within a short space of time, and is like the Bologna diamond of Werther, the knowledge of their progress in virtue, intellect, or even in worldly prosperity, which seems peculiarly their own when at a distance from us, and the rapture of reunion, are all pleasures of the highest order.