Andrew Pringle, Esq., to the Rev.Mr.Charles Snodgrass--LONDON.My Dear Friend--As the season advances, London gradually unfolds, like Nature, all the variety of her powers and pleasures.By the Argents we have been introduced effectually into society, and have now only to choose our acquaintance among those whom we like best.I should employ another word than choose, for I am convinced that there is no choice in the matter.In his friendships and affections, man is subject to some inscrutable moral law, similar in its effects to what the chemists call affinity.While under the blind influence of this sympathy, we, forsooth,suppose ourselves free agents!But a truce with philosophy.
The amount of the legacy is now ascertained.The stock, however, in which a great part of the money is vested being shut, the transfer to my father cannot be made for some time; and till this is done, my mother cannot be persuaded that we have yet got anything to trust to--an unfortunate notion which renders her very unhappy.The old gentleman himself takes no interest now in the business.He has got his mind at ease by the payment of all the legacies; and having fallen in with some of the members of that political junto, the Saints, who are worldly enough tolink, as often as they can, into their association, the powerful by wealth or talent, his whole time is occupied in assisting to promote their humbug; and he has absolutely taken it into his head, that the attention he receives from them for his subscriptions is on account of his eloquence as a preacher, and that hitherto he has been altogether in an error with respect to his own abilities.The effect of this is abundantly amusing; but the source of it is very evident.Like most people who pass a sequestered life, he had formed an exaggerated opinion of public characters; and on seeing them in reality so little superior to the generality of mankind, he imagines that he was all the time nearer to their level than he had ventured to suppose; and the discovery has placed him on the happiest terms with himself.It is impossible that I can respect his manifold excellent qualities and goodness of heart more than I do; but there is an innocency in this simplicity, which, while it often compels me to smile, makes me feel towards him a degree of tenderness, somewhat too familiar for that filial reverence that is due from a son.
Perhaps, however, you will think me scarcely less under the influence of a similar delusion when I tell you, that I have been somehow or other drawn also into an association, not indeed so public or potent as that of the Saints, but equally persevering in the objects for which it has been formed.The drift of the Saints, as far as I can comprehend the matter, is to procure the advancement to political power of men distinguished for the purity of their lives, and the integrity of their conduct; and in that way, I presume, they expect to effect the accomplishment of that blessed epoch, the Millennium, when the Saints are to rule the whole earth.I do not mean to say that this is their decided and determined object; I only infer, that it is the necessary tendency of their proceedings; and I say it with all possible respect and sincerity, that, as a public party, the Saints are not only perhaps the most powerful, but the party which, at present, best deserves power.
