To this account of a ceremonial so trying to the proud spirit engaged in it, and so little likely to abate the bitter feeling of misanthropy now growing upon him, I am enabled to add, from his own report in one of his note-books, the particulars of the short conversation which he held with the Lord Chancellor on the occasion:—­

“When I came of age, some delays, on account of some birth and marriage certificates from Cornwall, occasioned me not to take my seat for several weeks.  When these were over, and I had taken the oaths, the Chancellor apologised to me for the delay, observing ’that these forms were a part of his duty.’  I begged him to make no apology, and added (as he certainly had shown no violent hurry), ’Your Lordship was exactly like Tom Thumb’ (which was then being acted)—­’you did your duty, and you did no more.’”

In a few days after, the Satire made its appearance; and one of the first copies was sent, with the following letter, to his friend Mr. Harness.

LETTER 33.

TO MR. HARNESS.

“8.  St. James’s Street, March 18. 1809.

“There was no necessity for your excuses:  if you have time and inclination to write, ’for what we receive, the Lord make us thankful,’—­if I do not hear from you I console myself with the idea that you are much more agreeably employed.

“I send down to you by this post a certain Satire lately published, and in return for the three and sixpence expenditure upon it, only beg that if you should guess the author, you will keep his name secret; at least for the present.  London is full of the Duke’s business.  The Commons have been at it these last three nights, and are not yet come to a decision.  I do not know if the affair will be brought before our House, unless in the shape of an impeachment.  If it makes its appearance in a debatable form, I believe I shall be tempted to say something on the subject.—­I am glad to hear you like Cambridge:  firstly, because, to know that you are happy is pleasant to one who wishes you all possible sub-lunary enjoyment; and, secondly, I admire the morality of the sentiment. Alma Mater was to me injusta noverca; and the old beldam only gave me my M.A. degree because she could not avoid it.—­[102]You know what a farce a noble Cantab. must perform.

“I am going abroad, if possible, in the spring, and before I depart I am collecting the pictures of my most intimate schoolfellows; I have already a few, and shall want yours, or my cabinet will be incomplete.  I have employed one of the first miniature painters of the day to take them, of course, at my own expense, as I never allow my acquaintance to incur the least expenditure to gratify a whim of mine.  To mention this may seem indelicate; but when I tell you a friend of ours first refused to sit, under the idea that he was to disburse on the occasion, you will see that