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CATANIA, _Feb. 21, 1807_.
MY EVER DEAREST FATHER--I did not remember until I dated this
letter that probably in the course of this day I should come across
your recollection. I beg your blessing, and that of my dearest
mother, and I pray God to bless you both, that you may long be able
to give it me on the return of this day.
My change of place prevents my writing so often as formerly, from
not being in the way of opportunities.
The packet of January has arrived, and possessed us of very late
papers.
It is believed here that the French, having crossed the Vistula,
have been beaten by the Russians, and any reverse with so large a
river in their rear would be incalculable. It is likewise believed
that Buonaparte is at Paris, endeavouring to reinforce his army, in
spite of a general ferment throughout France.
An expedition is expected to leave Sicily every hour, generally
supposed to be destined for Alexandria; but it is difficult to
conceive why we should wish to garrison Alexandria (the Porte
having defied us). As Turkey will do for the enemy as well as
Egypt in respect to India, to seize Constantinople would seem more
desirable, for I think there is no doubt but that Napoleon will
occupy the states of his ally as far as he thinks expedient; and
thus we should anticipate Buonaparte and preserve the passage of
the Dardanelles.
If this expedition is going to Egypt, I am glad I remain here,
but if Constantinople, I shall much regret that I was not ordered
to join it. There is still, I believe, some doubt about its going
at all, but I trust our dear old sturdy State will still be
superior to the continental commotion. She never saw the time more
calculated to try whether she be a solid fabric or no. For in this
dearth of political talents, and of all talents (for there are no
great men as yet visible), she must go almost by herself.
I am now quartered in this most beautiful town (Catania) upon Mount
Etna, which I shall ascend when the fine weather comes, if I am
still here.
I am rather inclined to believe that the war is near its close;
but I cannot discern the end.--Ever, my dearest father, your very
affectionate and dutiful son,