"June 19. 1814.
"I am always obliged to trouble you with my awkwardnesses, and now
I have a fresh one. Mr. W.[36] called on me several times, and I
have missed the honour of making his acquaintance, which I regret,
but which _you_, who know my desultory and uncertain habits, will
not wonder at, and will, I am sure, attribute to any thing but a
wish to offend a person who has shown me much kindness, and
possesses character and talents entitled to general respect. My
mornings are late, and passed in fencing and boxing, and a variety
of most unpoetical exercises, very wholesome, &c., but would be
very disagreeable to my friends, whom I am obliged to exclude
during their operation. I never go out till the evening, and I
have not been fortunate enough to meet Mr. W. at Lord Lansdowne's
or Lord Jersey's, where I had hoped to pay him my respects.
"I would have written to him, but a few words from you will go
further than all the apologetical sesquipedalities I could muster
on the occasion. It is only to say that, without intending it, I
contrive to behave very ill to every body, and am very sorry for
it.
"Ever, dear R.," &c.
[Footnote 36: Mr. Wrangham.]
* * * * *
The following undated notes to Mr. Rogers must have been written about
the same time:--
"Sunday.
"Your non-attendance at Corinne's is very _à propos_, as I was on
the eve of sending you an excuse. I do not feel well enough to go
there this evening, and have been obliged to despatch an apology. I
believe I need not add one for not accepting Mr. Sheridan's
invitation on Wednesday, which I fancy both you and I understood in
the same sense:--with him the saying of Mirabeau, that '_words_ are
_things_,' is not to be taken literally.
"Ever," &c.
"I will call for you at a quarter before _seven_, if that will suit
you. I return you Sir Proteus[37], and shall merely add in return,
as Johnson said of, and to, somebody or other, 'Are we alive after
all this censure?'
"Believe me," &c.
[Footnote 37: A satirical pamphlet, in which all the writers of the day
were attacked.]
"Tuesday.
"Sheridan was yesterday, at first, too sober to remember your
invitation, but in the dregs of the third bottle he fished up his
memory. The Staël out-talked Whitbread, was _ironed_ by Sheridan,
confounded Sir Humphry, and utterly perplexed your slave. The rest
(great names in the red book, nevertheless,) were mere segments of
the circle. Ma'mselle danced a Russ saraband with great vigour,
grace, and expression.
"Ever," &c.
* * * * *