now. Cawthorne talks of being
in treaty for a novel of Me. D'Arblay's, and if he obtains it (at
1500 gs.!!) wishes me to see the MS. This I should read with
pleasure,--not that I should ever dare to venture a criticism on
her whose writings Dr. Johnson once revised, but for the pleasure
of the thing. If my worthy publisher wanted a sound opinion, I
should send the MS. to Rogers and M * * e, as men most alive to true
taste. I have had frequent letters from Wm. Harness, and _you_ are
silent; certes, you are not a schoolboy. However, I have the
consolation of knowing that you are better employed, viz.
reviewing. You don't deserve that I should add another syllable,
and I won't. Yours, &c.

"P.S.--I only wait for your answer to fix our meeting."

* * * * *

LETTER 81. TO MR. 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 thus 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.[38] 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;--he _was
glorious_, and exerted himself wonderfully. By good luck I got an
excellent place in the best part of the house, which was