MADAME DE STAEL IN ENGLAND.
Madame de Stael[310]has lived in the neighbourhood of Dorking with Miss Burney, not forgetting M. de Narbonne. She is lately come to town; we endeavour to be civil. I am to conduct her to the Tower, &c., and she and some of her friends are to dine here. Small assistance will be sufficient for my correspondent, of whom I know nothing but his letter, and you say he has nothing to distinguish him. I have applied to those who were likely to be useful on the subject of what you mentioned for Wilhelm de S., but as yet without a glimpse of success. The market is over-stocked. The travelleable country is greatly circumscribed, and the measure of sending a leader is greatly exploded. I spoke to Lord Porchester,[311]and he with great satisfaction asserted the excellence of the line he had pursued of sending his son with his schoolfellow. As speaking to people on these matters does not make so much impression as writing, I have applied to some by letter.
D. S., 26th March, '93.
My letter of last week did not enter on your affairs of money because Darell had not given me a final opinion; yesterday we had a full discourse thereon. The 3 per cents may sink more in proportion than the short annuities. The latter have fallen more than Mr. Darell expected, which he acknowledged when I remarked the opinion he had formerly given you. On the other hand, the 3 per cents are (for war-like times) surprisingly high. The constant regular purchase of one million of the stocks in the course of a year takes the whole of the floating stock; the great bankruptcies which have taken place, and the shyness of our monied men to discount Bills,—all these circumstances keep up the Funds. The extravagant extension of credit have produced the evil that was expected. It has been carried beyond anything that was ever known before. The War has helped to bring forward the crisis, but is not the cause of the mischief.
We seem to been trainto receive good tidings by every mail, but I cannot be content on the subject of our Fleet. The Publick begins to arraign the First Lord of Admiralty in respect to alertness and attention. It is extraordinary that John Bull bore so long the alarming state of the Mediterranean, 52 French ships of war of all sizes riding triumphant and insulting all nations in that sea—a superior French Fleet also in the West Indies. I flatter myself however we are going to do something there; nothing can prove the abject state of Holland more than the extreme joy on receiving the pitifull succour of 2000 English troops. The circumstance of sending the King's son[312]had the greatest effect, and proved that England was in earnest.
Your late neglects have almost obliterated your famous three letters. You do not say whether you have received any letters from us; not the least notice is taken of Maria's or my letters. She wrote a good deal on our Politicks, she sent mymuch admiredFoxippic copied from the Newspaper, also a detail of the massacre of the priests aux Carmes, and other matters. The Chancellorleaned from the Woolsack a few days ago, to tell me he had a letter from you, and asked where was Rolle. I am so abominably engaged that we seldom meet.
We had a very pleasant party here at dinner last Saturday to meet Madame de Stael, the Prince de Poix, Lally Tollendal, Princess d'Henin, Malouet, Baron de Gillier. Narbonne was invited, but engaged. We all went in the evening to Lady Catherine Douglas, where Madame de Stael rather astonished the Chancellor. In conversation she disputed every principle of Government and Politicks—a kind of tête-à-tête. There is a great prejudice against her. She is supposed to be the most intriguing democrate likely to set the Thames on fire. I can hardly get people to agree that she is eminently lively, pleasant, endowed with extraordinary mental ability, though somewhat ridiculous. She goes out of Town Tuesday, and talks of going soon to Switzerland.
You do not mention whether you have recd. your Madeira. I have heard nothing lately of Mrs. Gibbon. I have hopes you will soon have a clear country to Frankfort, Cologne, and the Hague. My Lady and Maria contrive to go out daily. The latter not well.
Lausanne, April 27, 1793.
*My Dearest Friend, for such you most truly are, nor does there exist a person who obtains, or shall ever obtain, a superior place in my esteem and affection.
DEATH OF LADY SHEFFIELD.
After too long a silence I was sitting down to write, when, only yesterday morning (such is now the irregular slowness of the English post) I was suddenly struck, indeed struck to the heart, by the fatal intelligence[313]from Sir Henry Clinton and M. de Lally. Alas! what is life, and what are our hopes and projects! When I embraced her at your departure from Lausanne, could I imagine that it was for the last time? When I postponed to another summer my journey to England, could I apprehend that I never,never should see her again? I have often deplored the nervous complaints which so deeply affected her happiness and spirits, but I always hoped that she would spin her feeble thread to a long duration, and that her delicate frame would survive (as is often the case) many constitutions of a stouter appearance. In four days! in your absence, in that of her children! But she is now at rest; and if there be a future state, her mild virtues have surely entitled her to the reward of pure and perfect felicity. It is for you that I feel; and I can judge of your sentiments by comparing them with my own. I have lost, it is true, an amiable and affectionate friend, whom I had known and loved above three and twenty years, and whom I often styled by the endearing name of sister. But you are deprived of the companion of your life, the wife of your choice, and the mother of your children—poor children! The energy of Maria, and the softness of Louisa, render them almost equally the objects of my tenderest compassion. I do not wish to aggravate your grief; but, in the sincerity of friendship, I cannot hold a different language. I know the impotence of reason, and I much fear that the strength of your character will serve to make a sharper and more lasting impression.
The only consolation in these melancholy tryals to which human life is exposed, the only one at least in which I have any confidence, is the presence of a real friend; and of that, as far as it depends on myself, you shall not be destitute. I regret the few days that must be lost in some necessary preparations; but I trust that to-morrow se'nnight (May the fifth) I shall be able to set forwards on my journey to England; and when this letter reaches you, I shall be considerably advanced on my way. As it is yet prudent to keep at a respectful distance from the banks of the French Rhine, I shall incline a little to the right, and proceed by Schaffhausen and Stutgard to Frankfort and Cologne: the Austrian Netherlands are now open and safe, and I am sure of being able at least to pass from Ostend to Dover; from whence, without passing through London, I shall pursue the direct road to Sheffield-place. Unless I should meet with some unforeseen accidents and delays, I hope, before the end of the month, to share your solitude, and sympathise with your grief. All the difficulties of the journey, which my indolence had probably magnified, have now disappeared before a stronger passion; and you will not besorry to hear, that, as far as Frankfort to Cologne, I shall enjoy the advantage of the society, the conversation, the German language, and the active assistance of Severy. His attachment to me is the sole motive which prompts him to undertake this troublesome journey: and as soon as he has seen me over the roughest ground, he will immediately return to Lausanne. The poor young man loved Lady S. as a mother, and the whole family is deeply affected by an event which reminds them too painfully of their own. Adieu. I could write Volumes, and shall therefore break off abruptly. I shall write on the road, and hope to find a few lines à poste restante at Frankfort and Brussells. Adieu; ever yours.*
Lausanne, May, 1793.
*My dear Friend,
ADVICE FOR FRIENDS IN GRIEF.
I must write a few lines before my departure, though indeed I scarcely know what to say. Nearly a fortnight has now elapsed since the first melancholy tidings, without my having received the slightest subsequent accounts of your health and situation. Your own silence announces too forcibly how much you are involved in your own feelings; and I can but too easily conceive that a letter to me would be more painful than to an indifferent person. But that amiable man, Count Lally, might surely have written a second time; but your sister, who is probably with you; but Maria, alas! poor Maria! I am left in a state of darkness to the workings of my own fancy, which imagines every thing that is sad and shocking. What can I think of for your relief and comfort? I will not expatiate on those common-place topics, which have never dryed a single tear; but let me advise, let me urge, you to force yourself into business, as I would try to force myself into study. The mind must not be idle; if it be not exercised on external objects, it will prey on its own vitals.
A thousand little arrangements, which must precede a long Journey, have postponed my departure three or four days beyond the term which I had first appointed; but all is now in order, and I set off to-morrow, the ninth instant, with my Valet de Chambre, a courier on horseback, and Severy, with his servant, as far asFrankfort. I calculate my arrival at Sheffield-place (how I dread and desire to see that mansion!) for the first week in June, soon after this letter; but I will try to send you some later intelligence. I never found myself stronger, or in better health. The German road is now cleared, both of enemies and allies, and though I must expect fatigue, I have not any apprehensions of danger. It is scarcely possible that you should meet me at Frankfort, but I shall be much disappointed at not finding a line at Brussels or Ostend. Adieu. If there be any invisible guardians, may they watch over you and yours! Adieu.*
Lausanne, May the 4th, 1793.
I know not whether you are already informed of the sudden death of poor Lady Sheffield after four days' illness; but I am sure that your feeling affectionate mind will not be surprized to hear that I set out for England next week, and that in a journey undertaken at the call of friendship all the dragons of the way have already vanished. I go by Basle, Frankfort, Cologne, Brussels, and Ostend, and I flatter myself that the success of our allied arms will contribute every week to open my passage; it is even possible, though scarcely probable, that I may embark from the English town of Calais. Your answer to my last letter is doubtless on the road and will follow me: but you must write immediately to Sheffield place, and I promise you a speedy and sincere account of our afflicted friend. I wish to hear of your motions and projects; I now sigh for your return to England, and shall be most bitterly disappointed if I have not the pleasure of seeing you in that happy island, yourself and the most amiable of Dutchesses before the end of the autumn: I cannot look with confidence beyond that period.
My friend and your Chevalier[314]will guard me as far as Cologne or Frankfort; his tender attachment to his mother who is still very melancholy will recall him from thence to Lausanne; but in the course of next winter he has thoughts of visiting England. The circumstances of the times which impoverish every one, havepersuaded him to listen to my advice of conducting on his travels some English pupill of fashion and fortune. Such a pupill will be fortunate in finding a real Gentleman, and I trust that the Dutchess and yourself will exert your omnipotence in providing some connection equally honourable and advantageous for my friend, and your sincere Votary. Adieu. Excuse brevity and address a Classic prayer in my behalf before some statue of Mercury the God of travellers.
Lausanne, May the 8th (my fifty-seventh birthday), 1793.
Dear Madam,
JOURNEY TO ENGLAND.
I have the pleasure of acquainting you that to-morrow, the 9th instant, I set forwards for England, but the pleasure of revisiting my friends and my native country is deeply embittered by the melancholy tidings from Downing Street, which have fixed and hastened my Journey. I travel by the way of Frankfort and Brussells, and your tenderness should not feel the slightest apprehension for my safety. Every enquiry is made, every convenience is provided, every precaution is taken, and though there will undoubtedly be some fatigue, I can assure you with truth, that there does not remain the shadow of a danger. I may expect to reach Sheffield-place the first week in June, from whence I will immediately give you a line. My first cares must be devoted to poor Lord S., whose grief I feel and even fear, but I shall be impatient to see the Belvidere and the maternal countenance of my most faithful friend. May the progress of fine weather confirm your health and spirits. My own are perfectly good, and I never, in my whole life, found myself better qualified for a long Journey.
I am, Dear Madam,Ever most affectionately yours,E. Gibbon.
Mercer's Hall, 14th May, 1793.
We shall ever acknowledge that you are a right good friend. I was hardly able to read your letter. This is the first foreign post since its arrival. I had hopes you would come forthwith, but hardly expected such an effort as your speedy departure required. Maria & Louisa rejoice at your approach, Sarah is with us. Your apartment will be prepared; your letter arrived too late for me to write to you at Francfort. I shall address this to Brussels. All Friends wish me to involve myself as much as possible in business; I am so with a vengeance in a commission[315](at the Head of which I am) for the Issue of 5 millions of Exchequer Bills for the relief of Commercial Credit—a matter very interesting indeed, & which I flatter myself will be of great service. I pass the day at Mercer's Hall with my fellow Commissioners—16 of the chief men of the City, excellent men, and four others.
Yours ever,S.
Frankfort, May 19th, 1793.
FRENCH COURAGE DESERVES BETTER CAUSE.
*And here I am, in good health and spirits, after one of the easiest, safest, and pleasantest journies which I ever performed in my whole life; not the appearance of an enemy, and hardly the appearance of a War. Yet I hear, as I am writing, the canon of the siege of Mayence,[316]at the distance of twenty miles;and long, very long, will it be heard. It is confessed on all sides, that the French fight with a courage worthy of a better cause: the town of Mayence is strong, their artillery admirable; they are already reduced to horse-flesh, but they have still the resource of eating the inhabitants, and at last of eating one another; and, if that repast could be extended to Paris and the whole country, it might essentially contribute to the relief of mankind. Our operations are carried on with more than German slowness, and when the besieged are quiet, the besiegers are perfectly satisfied with their progress. A spirit of division undoubtedly prevails; and the character of the Prussians for courage and discipline is sunk lower then you can possibly imagine. Their glory has expired with Frederic. I am sorry to have missed Lord Elgin,[317]who is beyond the Rhine with the King of Prussia. As I am impatient, I propose setting forwards to-morrow afternoon, and shall reach Ostend in less than eight days. The passage must depend on winds and packets; and I hope to find at Brussels or Dover a letter which will direct me to S. P. or Downing-street. Severy goes back from hence. Adieu: I embrace the dear Girls.
Ever yours,E. G.*
Brussels, May 27, 1793.
*This day, between two and three o'Clock in the afternoon, I am arrived at this place in excellent preservation. My expedition, which is now drawing to a close, has been a journey of perseverance rather than speed, of some labour since Frankfort, but without the smallest degree of difficulty or danger. As I have every morning been seated in the Chaise soon after sun-rise, I propose indulging to-morrow till eleven o'Clock, and going that day no farther than Ghent: on Wednesday the 29th instant I shall reach Ostend in good time, just eight days, according to my former reckoning, from Frankfort. Beyond that I can saynothing positive; but should the winds be propitious, it is possible that I may appear next Saturday, June 1st, in Downing Street. After thatearliestdate, you will expect me day by day till I arrive. Adieu. I embrace the dear Girls, and salute Mrs. Holroyd. I rejoyce that you have anticipated my advice of plunging into business; but I should now be sorry if that business, however important, detained us long in town. I do not wish to make a public exhibition, and only sigh to enjoy you and the precious remnant in the solitude of Sheffield-place.
Ever yours,E. G.
If I am successful I may outstrip or accompany this letter. Yours and Maria's waited for me here, and overpaid the Journey.*
Downing Street, June 13th, 1793.
Dear Madam,
As you know that I am now safe, well and happy at my friend Lord Sheffield, you will easily excuse a delay of some days in my promised letter.
As long as I was on the road, and it was a long time, your apprehensions, I am much afraid, were awakened not so much in proportion to the real magnitude of the danger, as to the exquisite sensibility of your own feelings. For my own part, though the scene was nearer and more familiar to me, I must fairly own, that I saw through a magnifyer, and that my resolution to visit Lord Sheffield in his state of affliction was an effort of some courage. But I was most agreably surprized to find the Lyons whom I had seen at a distance become little gentle lap-dogs on a nearer approach. I wheeled round behind the armies by the way of Basel, Frankfort, Cologne, Brussells, and Ostend, without meeting with any hostile impediment, and indeed without seeing the face of a Soldier. My passage from Ostend was short and prosperous, and I reached Downing Street not in the least affected by the fatigue of a rough and tedious journey. I found Lord S. much better and even more chearful than I could have expected: he feels his loss, but the new scenes of public business in whichhe verily wisely engaged have alleviated his grief by occupying his mind. The Ladies are gone into the Country, and he proposes to follow them next week. I could much have wished to visit Bath without delay: but Lord S. will not hear of so early a separation, and as he is the immediate object of my journey, I must submit, unless you particularly desire to see me very soon. Adieu.
Dear Madam,I am ever yours,E. Gibbon.
Thursday Noon.
My Dearest Sir,
MRS. GIBBON'S JOY.
I truely rejoice, & congratulate you on your being once more safely arrived in your native Country; may health & happiness attend you in it. I am so happy that you have escaped all the evils I foresaw & dreaded, that I find myself better then I have been this year, & this letter is a proof of it; my last but one was to you, as a complaint in my head frighted me from attempting to use a pen, & I hope the forbearance has cured it. I wish'd to tell you so yesterday, but the joy your letter gave would not suffer my hand to be steady enough to write. I thank you most sincerely for writing so soon, & shall impatiently expect the letter you promise me. I am glad you are with Lord Sheffield. When you write tell me how he does; & the young ladies are. I shall soon acknowledge Mrs. Holroyd's kindness in writing to me; make best & kindest Compliments for me, & believe me,
My Dear Sir,Most affectionately yours,D. Gibbon.
Belvedere, Bath, August 29, '93.
My Dear Sir,
I have but one excuse for not answering your last letter, to wit, not being able, as I could not hold a pen steadyenough to write; yet I never felt myself happier, because I never was so miserable, as from the time those vile miscreants the french Democrats was within forty miles of Lausanne, till you arrived safe in England. Many has been the disappointments I have borne with fortitude, but the fear of having my last & only friend torn from me, was very near overseting my reason: my aggitation prevented my feeling my excessive weakness, till after I had answered your letter, which gave me a joy I shall never again experience, at least I hope not, as I trust you will not be any more expos'd to such eminent danger.
If I have the satisfaction of seeing you next month, I shall be more able to enjoy your Conversation, as my health & strength are wonderfully improv'd within this fortnight; but as much as I long to see you, I would not be the cause of bringing you from agreeable partys & places you like, till it is convenient to you to come. I have not been out this twelve month, dare not encounter the heat, & have little company at home. Your friend Mrs. Gould is as agreeable as ever, Mrs. R. grows old, Mrs. Shelly just as usual. Madame Ely & Mrs. Bonfoy are here. Mrs. Holroyd has probably told you that Miss Gould is now Mrs. Horneck. I wish she had been Mrs. Gibbon.
I am very sorry to hear Miss Louisa Holroyd's health is so indifferent, she is a charming girle, & her sister a very fine one, pray say every thing that is kind to both the Ladies for me; make my best compliments to Lord Sheffield, I make my own to Mrs. Holroyd; let me know when I may hope to see you, and believe me to be,
My Dear Sir,Your most affectionateD. Gibbon.
Sheffield Place, Sept. 3, 1793.
Dear Madam,
Many days have passed away, since I have received any letter so truly, so dearly acceptable as your last. I had no occasion indeed for any fresh assurances of that regard and tenderness which I have invariably known and felt during thespace of thirty-five years: but I was delighted at seeing under your own hand, and again confirmed by your letter of the same date to Mrs. Holroyd, the clearest evidence of your health, spirits, and strength, and I am still more persuaded that some minds will rise superior to the infirmities which Nature has attached to the advanced period of human life.
ANXIETY TO SEE MRS. GIBBON.
My own inclinations would immediately have carried me to the Belvidere from Dover or London; but reason compelled me to acknowledge that, as Lord Sheffield's unexpected misfortune had prompted me to undertake a Journey more hazardous in appearance than in reality, my first attention was due to him, and that it was incumbent on me to try how far the society of a friend might contribute to his relief and amusement. In the three months which we have now spent together I have had the satisfaction of finding that my labours have not been unsuccessful. Our domestic society, which is much improved by the presence of Mrs. Holroyd, some chosen company in the house, the seasonable diversion of Camps and visits, and above all, the very important business of the Exchequer bills which frequently calls him to Mercer's hall, have seconded my endeavours, and I shall leave him in a placid and even chearful temper of mind. As I now find myself of less use, I had fixed my departure about the 15th or 20th instant, but he absolutely insists on keeping me here till the end of the month; and as we expect a very agreable friend, Mr. Douglas, who married Lady Catherine North, I am almost inclined to yield to his importunity. At all events, as I shall only pass three or four days in town, you may depend on seeing me at Bath in the first week of October. I remember that your elegant little mansion will not admit of an additional inhabitant, though I may be perfectly accommodated as heretofore either in your court or over the way. But I am likewise ignorant whether our dining together, at my Lausanne hours of two or three o'Clock, may not be too great an exertion for your returning strength. Should you content yourself with receiving my morning and afternoon visits (and perhaps such an arrangement would be the most prudent), I might be tempted to prefer the Hotel, from whence a chair would convey me in a few minutes to the Belvidere. I shall expect on that subject a line from yourself or our old friend Mrs. Gould. Lord S., who is gone to town this morning, and the young Ladies beg to be kindly remembered toyou. Mrs. H. will soon answer your obliging letter. I have a thousand things to say, but they will be best deferred for our interview, which I impatiently desire.
I am, Dear Madam,Ever yours,E. Gibbon.
October 2nd, 1793.
*The Cork Street hotel has answered its recommendation; it is clean, convenient, and quiet,* but the expence for a Winter residence, five guineas per week for two small rooms and closet, would much surpass that of a similar lodging without affording any superior advantages. *My first evening was passed at home in a very agreeabletête-à-têtewith my friend Elmsley. Yesterday I dined at Craufurd's with an excellent set, in which were Pelham and Lord Egremont. I dine to-day with my Portuguese woman[318]at Grenier's, most probably with the well-washed feet of Lady W[ebster], whom I met last night at Devonshire-house; a constant, though late, resort of society. The Duchess is as good, and Lady Elizabeth as seducing, as ever. No news whatsoever. You will see in the papers Lord Hervey's Memorial.[319]I love vigour, but it is surely a strong measure to tell a gentleman you haveresolvedto pass the winter in his house. London is not disagreeable; yet I shall probably leave it Saturday. If any thing should occur, I will write.* Douglas with the Doctor, &c., called on me this morning. *Adieu; I embrace dear little Aunt and la Marmaille. Ever yours.*
P.S.—I have not had your letter, and if you could impart particulars, they should be entrusted only to Vulcan.
Cork Street Hotel, Friday, October 4th, 1793.
Dear Madam,
FROM LONDON TO BATH.
I propose to reach Bath next Monday for averylate dinner at York-house, where my old friend Will Budd will be so good as to secure me a bed-chamber and dining-room on the same floor with accommodations for two servants. I am very impatient to embrace you, but must postpone that pleasure till theusualtime of your rising next day: for not the minutest circumstance of your life must be disarranged on my account, as I mean to leave you in every point of health and spirits at least as well as I find you.
I amEver yours,E. G.
York-house, Bath, October 9th, 1793.
*Sunday afternoon I left London, and lay at Reading, and Monday in very good time I reached this place after a very pleasant airing; and am always so much delighted, and improved, with this union of ease and motion, that, were not the expence enormous, I would travel every year some hundred miles, more especially in England. I passed the day with Mrs. G. yesterday. In mind and conversation she is just the same as twenty years ago. She has spirits, appetite, legs, and eyes, and talks of living till ninety. I can say from my heart, Amen. We dine at two, and remain together till nine; but, although we have much to say, I am not sorry that she talks of introducing a third or fourth actor. Lord Spenser expects me about the 20th; but if I can do it without offence, I shall steal away two or three days sooner, and you shall have advice of my motions.
The troubles of Bristol[320]have been serious and bloody. I know not who was in fault; but I do not like appeasing the mob by the extinction of the toll, and the removal of the Hereford militia, who had done their duty. Adieu. The Girls must dance at Tunbridge. What would dear little Aunt say if I was to answer her letter? Drop in my ear something of your secret conversations.
Ever yours, &c.,E. G.
I still follow the old style, though the Convention has abolished the Christian Era, with months, weeks, days, &c.*
York-house, Bath, October 13th, 1793.
*I am as ignorant of Bath in general as if I were still at Sheffield. My impatience to get away makes me think it better to devote my whole time to Mrs. G.; and dear little aunt, whom I tenderly salute, will excuse me to her two friends, Mrs. Hartley and Preston, if I make little or no use of her kind introduction. Atête-à-têteof eight or nine hours every day is rather difficult to support; yet I do assure you, that our conversation flows with more ease and spirit when we are alone, than when any auxiliaries are summoned to our aid. She is indeed a wonderful woman, and I think all her faculties of the mind stronger and more active than I have ever known them. I have settled, that ten full days may be sufficient for all the purposes of our interview. I should therefore depart next Friday, the 18th instant, and am indeed expected at Althorp on the 20th; but I may possibly reckon without my host, as I have not yet apprized Mrs. G. of the term of my visit; and will certainly not quarrel with her for a short delay. Adieu. I must have some political speculations. The Campaign, at least on our side, seems to be at an end. Ever yours.*
Star Inn, Oxford, Friday evening, Oct. 18, 1793.
Dear Madam,
If true friendship were not always a coward, it would be almost useless to say that after a very pleasant airing I am arrived here without accident or fatigue. By the first post you shall hear of me from Althorp.
I amEver yours,E. G.
Althorp, Oct. 20th, 1793.
Dear Madam,
MRS. GIBBON'S MENTAL YOUTH.
The remainder of my Journey has been as easy and prosperous as the beginning, and I am now most agreably settled for a fortnight at this place. The society of a very pleasing and friendly family does not however make me forget the Belvidere, and I wish that I could have given myself a larger scope for my visit to Bath. Yet I have the satisfaction of thinking, that of the narrow span I did not lose any part, and as you were my sole object, I never deviated into any other company or amusement. As we were almost always alone, we enjoyed perhaps as much of each other's society in ten days, as we should have had with the common dissipations of the World in ten weeks. I had the satisfaction of finding and leaving you in a state of health, spirits, and evenmentalyouth, which you have the fairest prospect of preserving to a very late period of life, and what more can either yourself or your friends desire? My best compliments to Mrs. Gould.
I am, Dear Madam,Ever yours,E. G.
Althorpe library, Tuesday, four o'clock, Nov., '93.
*We have so completely exhausted this morning among the first editions of Cicero, that I can only mention my departure hence to-morrow, the sixth instant. I lye quietly at Woburn, and reach London in good time Thursday. By the following post I write somewhat more largely. My stay in London will depend, partly on my amusement, and your being fixed at Sheffield-place; unless you think I can be comfortably arranged for a week or two with you at Brighton.* An insignificant Minister is often soothed by sops and jobbs. *The military remarks seem good; but now to what purpose! Adieu. I embrace and much rejoyce in Louisa's improvement. Lord Ossory was from home at Farning Woods.*
London, Friday, Nov. 8th, four o'clock.
*Walpole has just delivered yours, and I hasten the direction, that you may not be at a loss. I will write to-morrow, but I am now fatigued, and rather unwell. Adieu. I have not seen a soul except Elmsley.*
St. James's Street, Nov. 9th, 1793.
*As I dropt yesterday the wordunwell, I flatter myself that the family would have been a little alarmed by my silence to-day. I am still awkward, though without any suspicions of gout, and have some idea of having recourse to medical advice. Yet I creep out to-day in a chair, to dine with Lord Lucan. But as it will be literally my first going down stairs, and as scarcely any one is apprized of my arrival, I know nothing, I have heard nothing,I have nothing to say. My present lodging,[321]a house of Elmsley's, is chearful, convenient, somewhat dear, but not so much as a Hotel: a species of habitation for which I have not conceived any great affection. Had you been stationary at Sheffield, you would have seen me before the twentieth; for I am tired of rambling, and pant for my home, that is to say, for your house. But whether I shall have courage to brave *P. of W.* and a bleak down, time only can discover. Adieu. I wish you back to S.-pl. The health of dear Louisa is doubtless the first object; but I did not expect Brighton after Tunbridge. Whenever dear little aunt is separate from you, I shall certainly write to her; but at present how is it possible?*
Ever yours,E. G.
[Most private.]
St. James's Street, Nov. 11th, 1793.
IN THE HANDS OF THE SURGEONS.
*I must at length withdraw the veil before my state of health, though the naked truth may alarm you more than a fit of the gout. Have you never observed, through myinexpressibles, a large prominencycirca genitalia, which, as it was not at all painful, and very little troublesome, I had strangely neglected for many years?[322]But since my departure from Sheffield-place it has increased, most stupendously, is increasing, and ought to be diminished. Yesterday I sent for Farquhar,[323]who is allowed to be a very skilful surgeon. After viewing and palping, he very seriously desired to call in assistance, and has examined it again to-day with Mr. Cline,[324]a surgeon, as he says, of the first eminence. They both pronounce it ahydrocele(a collection of water), whichmust be let out by the operation of tapping; but from its magnitude and long neglect, they think it a most extraordinary case, and wish to have another surgeon, Dr. Bayley, present. If the business should go off smoothly, I shall be delivered from my burthen, (it is almost as big as a small child), and walk about in four or five days with a truss. But the medical gentlemen, who never speak quite plain, insinuate to me thepossibilityof an inflammation, of fever, etc. I am not appalled at the thoughts of the operation, which is fixed for Wednesday next, twelve o'clock; but it has occurred to me that you might wish to be present, before and afterwards, till the crisis was past; and to give you that opportunity, I shall solicit a delay till Thursday, or even Friday. In the mean while, I crawl about with some labour, and much indecency, to Devonshire-house, where I left all the fine ladies making flannel waistcoats;[325]Lady Lucan's, &c. Adieu. Varnish the business for the ladies; yet I am afraid it will be public;—the advantage of being notorious. Ever yours.*
St. James's Street, No. 76, Nov. 21, '93.
My Dear Madam,
My friend Lord S. having left me to return into Sussex, I thought you would not be sorry to receive a short assurance of my health under my own hand. You may justly reproach me with the long neglect of a growing complaint, but I am now in the hands of the most skillful physicians and surgeons, who have given me immediate relief, and promise me a safe and radical cure. With their approbation I live as usual, and dine abroad every day, and in a fortnight, when my friends return from Brighton, I shall meet them at S. P. and remain there till after Christmas.
I amEver yours,E. G.
St. James's, Nov. 25, '93.