--To William Harness.
8, St. James's Street, Dec. 15, 1811.
I wrote you an answer to your last, which, on reflection, pleases me as
little as it probably has pleased yourself. I will not wait for your
rejoinder; but proceed to tell you, that I had just then been greeted
with an epistle of * *'s, full of his petty grievances, and this at the
moment when (from circumstances it is not necessary to enter upon) I was
bearing up against recollections to which _his_ imaginary sufferings are
as a scratch to a cancer. These things combined, put me out of humour
with him and all mankind. The latter part of my life has been a
perpetual struggle against affections which embittered the earliest
portion; and though I flatter myself I have in a great measure conquered
them, yet there are moments (and this was one) when I am as foolish as
formerly. I never said so much before, nor had I said this now, if I did
not suspect myself of having been rather savage in my letter, and wish
to inform you this much of the cause. You know I am not one of your
dolorous gentlemen: so now let us laugh again.
Yesterday I went with Moore to Sydenham to visit Campbell [1]. He was
not visible, so we jogged homeward merrily enough. To-morrow I dine with
Rogers, and am to hear Coleridge, who is a kind of rage at present. Last
night I saw Kemble in Coriolanus [2];--he _was glorious_, and exerted
himself wonderfully. By good luck I got an excellent place in the best
part of the house, which was more than overflowing.
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