. . . “I never was so deep in anything as I am now in
Malthus, and it is curious to see
how my spirits fluctuate accordingly. When I engage in a calculation, I cannot
pursue it for an hour without being sick to the lowest ebb. I told you in my
last that I have employed William and
Rosser. I wrote to Booth for a calculation early on Tuesday last,
entreating him to let me have it by the first post on Wednesday, that I might
not be prevented from getting on. As usual, I heard nothing of him on
Wednesday, nor till Thursday dinner, when he dropped in to my mutton. I was,
therefore, miserable. On Friday I made an important discovery and I was happy.
The weather has since changed, and you know how that affects me. I was nervous
and peevish on Saturday to a degree that almost alarmed me. On Sunday I was in
heaven. I think I
| 260 | WILLIAM GODWIN |
“I did not intend to tell you all this, and I am afraid of your not reading it in the spirit of sympathy. But this way of life is my destination, and I must pursue it. I think it will preserve my faculties and lengthen my existence. But if it does exactly the contrary, I care not. What matters what becomes of this miserable carcase, if I can live for ever in true usefulness? And this must be the case in the present instance: for whatever becomes of my individual book, if I am right the system of Malthus can never rise again, and the world is delivered for ever from this accursed apology in favour of vice and misery, of hard-heartedness and oppression.
“Why, to borrow your own words, do I talk so much of myself? Because I have nothing else to think about?”
