This is the only man whose wishes are ever crowned with final success. Vigour declines, beauty decays, wit is extinguished, the tenderest ties at last are broken, the noblest monument crumbles to dust. So far, time alone insures the accomplishment of his desires. Folly, vice, and natural evils, accelerate the work. All the ministers of darkness are his allies. ‘Shadow him with laurel,’ ye spirits at enmity with man. He is already one of your fraternity; he has enlisted in the service of your master, without a bribe.
TO RICHARD TRENCH, ESQ.
Bath, Feb., 1812.
Your gleanings are very entertaining. Why is it that one appears to hear more odd and comical sayings in the first twenty-four hours after an Irish arrival, than in many following days? I suppose the novelty of the accent excites attention in the beginning.
I was last night at Lady Newcomen’s. I cannot tell you how kind people are. I meet more bienveillance than when I was younger; and to me this more than compensates for that mixture of flattery, nonsense, and spite, of which what is foolishly called admiration is compounded. No one affronted me by saying I looked as well as ever, or even simply well.
Your friend seems quite uneasy under the present fashion of not flirting, and looks as if he was saying ‘Othello’s occupation’s gone.’ For my part, I think the present ‘sabbath’ much pleasanter than the former ‘laborious idleness.’ If everyone told the truth, they would own that fishing for agreeable chat often tired them as much as more strenuous employment; and to some the double duty of talking well, and looking well, in all humours and under all circumstances, was really fatiguing.
This is my day of moving. The servants are very angry at my leaving this house, and the domestic machinery creaks in every wheel.