To MISS HONORA EDGEWORTH.
NORTH AUDLEY STREET,
Feb. 10, 1831.
I am just come home from breakfasting with Sir James Macintosh. Fanny
was with me, double, double pleasure, but we both feel as we suppose
dramdrinkers do after their "mornings." My hand and my mind are both
unsteadied and unfitted for business after this intoxicating draught. O
what it is to "come within the radiance of genius," not
only every object appears so radiant, but I feel myself so much
increased in powers, in range of mind, a vue d'oiseau of all things
raised above the dun dim fog of commonplace life. How can any one like
to live with their inferiors and prefer it to the delight of being
raised up by a superior to the bright regions of genius? The inward
sense of having even this perception of excellence is a pleasure far
beyond what flattery can give. Flattery is like a bad perfume, nauseous and overpowering after the first waft, and hurtful as well as nauseous. But as luncheon is coming and we must go directly to the Admiralty to see Captain Beaufort, and then to the Carrs'—no more rhodomontading to-day.