HIS SUCCESS IN FRENCH SOCIETY.
I told you what would infallibly happen, and you know enough of the nature of the beast not to be surprized at it. I have now been at Paris exactly five weeks,[361]during which time I have not written to any person whatsoever within the British Dominions except two lines of notification to Mrs. Gibbon. The Daemon of procrastination has at length yielded to the Genius of Friendship, assisted indeed by the powers of fear and shame. But when I have seated myself before my table and begin to revolve all that I have seen and tasted during this busy period, I feel myself oppressed and confounded; and I am very near throwing away the pen and resigning myself to indolent despair. A compleat history would require a volume at least as corpulent as the decline and fall, and if I attempt to select and abridge, besides the difficulty of the choice there occur so many things which cannot properly be entrusted to paper, and so many others of too slight a nature to support the Journey, that I am almost tempted to reserve for our future conversations the detail of my pleasures and occupations. But as I am sensible that you arerigidandimpatient, I will try to convey in a few words a general idea of my situation as a man of the World and as a man of Letters.
You remember that the Neckers were my principal dependance, and the reception which I have met with from them very far surpassed my most sanguine expectations. I do not indeed lodge in their house (as it might excite the jealousy of the husband and procure me a letter de cachet), but I live very much with them, dine and sup whenever they have company, which is almost every day, and whenever I like it, for they are not in the least exigeans. Mr. Walpole gave me an introduction to Madame du Deffand,[362]an agreable young Lady of eighty-two years of age, who has constant suppers and the best company in Paris. When you see the D. of Richmond at Lewes he will give you an account of that house, where I meet him almost every evening. Ask him about Madame de Cambis.[363]I am afraid poor Mary is entirelyforgot. I have met the D. of Choiseul[364]at his particular request, dinedby accidentwith Franklin, conversed with the Emperor,[365]been presented at court, and gradually, or rather rapidly, I find my acquaintance spreading over the most valuable parts of Paris. They pretend to like me, and whatever you may think of French professions, I am convinced that some at least are sincere. On the other hand I feel myself easy and happy in their company, and only regret that I did not come over two or three months sooner. Though Paris throughout the summer promises me a very agreable society, yet I am hurt every day by the departure of Men and Women whom I begin to know with some familiarity, the departure of Officers for their Governments and Garrisons, of Bishops for their Dioceses, and even of country Gentlemen for their estates, as a rural taste gains ground in this Country.
So much for the general idea of my acquaintance; details would be endless yet unsatisfactory. You may add to the pleasures of Society those of the Spectacles and promenades, and you will find that I lead a very agreable life; let me just condescend to observe that it is not extravagant. After decking myself out with silks and silver, the ordinary establishment of Coach, Lodgeing, Servants, eating and pocket expences does not exceed sixty pounds pr. month. Yet I have two footmen in handsome liveries behind my Coach, and my apartment is hung with damask. Adieu for the present. I have more to say, but were I to attempt any farther progress you must wait another post, and you have already waited long enough of all conscience.
Let me just in two words give you an idea of my day. I amnow going (nine o'clock) to the King's Library, where I shall stay till twelve. As soon as I am dressed I set out to dine with the Duke de Nivernois,[366]shall go from thence to the French Comedy into the Princess de Beauvau'sloge grillée,[367]and am not quite determined whether I shall sup at Madame du Deffand's, Madame Necker's, or the Sardinian Embassadress's.[368]Once more Adieu. Do not be fond of shewing my letter; the playful effusions of friendship would be construed by strangers as gross vanity.
I embrace My lady and Bambine. I shall with chearfulness execute any of her commissions.
Hotel de Modene, Paris, July 24th, 1777.
Dear Madam,
HIS FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES.
If ever my negligence could be excused by your good natured friendship, it would be from the consideration of my present circumstances, and I am sure that your regard for me is of so pure and disinterested a character that you had much rather I should be happy without hearing from me, than if you received by every post a regular succession of complaints. Happily indeed have I passed two short months since my arrival at Paris, and every circumstance of my journey has more than answered my most sanguine expectations. My connection with the Neckers, who every day acquire more power and deserve more respect, first opened the door to me, and perhaps the reputation of a popular writer has contributed a little to enlarge the entrance. I pass my time in the society of men of letters, people of fashion, the higher ranks ofthe clergy, and the foreign Ministers, and except when I wish to steal a few moments' privacy, it seldom happens to me to dine or sup at my hotel. The vacancies of my time are filled by the public libraries in the morning, and in the afternoon by the spectacles, and as part of my acquaintance begin to disperse themselves in the environs of Paris, I have contrived, though in a most unfavourable season, to make several very pleasant excursions. Such is the general idea of my life, in which I have made many acquaintance and formed some more intimate connections, from all of which I receive civilities, amusement and information. Details would be infinite, and must be reserved for your fireside at Bath; but I cannot forbear saying something of two or three persons whom you know.
First then you will expect to hear of Mrs. Mallet. Mr. Scott had desired me to take charge of a letter, and I delivered it to her own fair hands the second day after my arrival. She received me with a shriek of joy and a close embrace, and we sat down to talk of old and new subjects. I found her exactly the same talkative, positive, passionate, conceited creature as we knew her twenty years ago. She raved with her usual indiscretion and fury of Gods, Kings and Ministers, the perfections of her favourites and the vice or folly of every person shedisliked. Unfortunately she had applied to Mr. Necker for some favour, and had not been received in a manner suitable to her importance. Her resentment was expressed in such indecent language, that after repeated but ineffectual hints of my intimate connection with the person she was abusing, I was obliged to shorten my visit with a firm resolution of never returning.
Your favourite, the Duke of Richmond, has fallen in my way infinitely more than he ever did in England, and I do assure you that the air of Paris agrees perfectly well with him. He is easy, attentive and cheerful, pays his court to young and to old women, and is extremely popular and even fashionable in the Society of Paris. I have likewise seen a great deal of the Sardinian Ambassadress whom you have formerly known with Lady Cobham, under the name of Miss Speed. She keeps a very hospitable house, and has acquired the manners of the country without losing the sentiments of her own. Adieu, Dear Madam. If you can think of any commissions for me I will execute them with care and pleasure, though I have no occasion for any memento to make me often think of you.
Sir Stanier will be so good as to forward anything to me.
Paris, August the 11th, 1777.
*Well, and who is the Culprit now?—Thus far I had written in the pride of my heart, and fully determined to inflict an Epistle upon you, even before I received any answer to my former; I was very near a Bull. But this forward half line lay ten days barren and inactive, till its generative powers were excited by the missive which I received yesterday.
NO IMMEDIATE RISK OF FRENCH WAR.
What a wretched piece of work do we seem to be making of it in America! The greatest force which any European power ever ventured to transport into that Continent, is not strong enough even to attack the enemy; the Naval strength of Great Britain is not sufficient to prevent the Americans (they have almost lost the appellation of Rebels) from receiving every assistance that they wanted; and in the mean time you are obliged to call out the Militia to defend your own coasts againsttheir privateers.[369]You possibly may expect from me some account of the designs and policy of the French Court, but I chuse to decline that task for two reasons: 1st,Because you may find them laid open in every newspaper; and 2ndly,Because I live too much with their Courtiers and Ministers to know anything about them. I shall only say that I am not under any immediate apprehensions of a War with France. It is much more pleasant as well as profitable to view in safety the raging of the tempest, occasionally to pick up some pieces of the Wreck, and to improve their trade, their agriculture, and their finances, while the two countries arelento collisa duello. Far from taking any step to put a speedy end to this astonishing dispute, I should not be surprized if next summer they were to lend their cordial assistance to England, as to the weaker party. As to my personal engagement with the D[uke] of R[ichmond], I recollect a very few slight skirmishes, but nothing that deserves the name of a general engagement. The extravagance of some disputants, both French and English, who have espoused the cause of America, sometimes inspires me with an extraordinary vigour. Upon the whole, I find it much easier to defend the justice than the policy of our Measures; but there are certain cases, where whatever is repugnant to sound policy ceases to be just.
The more I see of Paris, the more I like it.[370]The regularcourse of the Society in which I live is easy, polite, and entertaining; and almost every day is marked by the acquisition of some new acquaintance, who is worth cultivating, or who, at least, is worth remembering. To the great admiration of the French, I regularly dine and regularly sup, drink a dish of strong Coffee after each meal, and find my stomach a citizen of the World. The Spectacles, (particularly the Italian, and above all the French Comedie) which are open the whole summer, afford me an agreeable relaxation from Company; and to shew you that I frequent them from taste only, and not from idleness, I have not yet seen the Colisee, the Vauxhall, the Boulevards, or any of those places of entertainment which constitute Paris to most of our Countrymen. Occasional trips to dine or sup in some of the thousand Country-houses which are scattered round the environs of Paris, serve to vary the scene. In the mean while the summer insensibly glides away, and the fatal month of October approaches, when I must exchange the house of Madame Necker for the house of Commons.
PARIS BECOMING EMPTY.
I regret that I could not chuse the winter, instead of the Summer, for this excursion: I should have found many valuable persons, and should have preserved others whom I have lost as I began to know them. The Duke de Choiseul, who deservesattention both for himself, and for keeping the best house in Paris, passes seven months of the year in Touraine; and though I have been tempted, I consider with horror a journey of sixty leagues into the Country. The Princess of Beauvau* (by the bye Beauveau, fine calf, is an orthography worthy of a Sussex farmer), the Princess of Beauvau, *who is a most superior Woman, has been absent above six weeks, and does not return till the 24thof this month. A large body of Recruits will be assembled by the Fontainbleau journey; but in order [to] have a thorough knowledge of this splendid Country, I ought to stay till the month of January; and if I could be sure that opposition would be as tranquil as they were last year—
I think your life has been as animated, or, at least, as tumultuous, and I envy you Lady Payne,[371]and Lady Dy, &c. much more than either the Primate,[372]or the Chief Justice.[373]Let not the generous breast of Mylady be torn by the black serpents of envy. She still possesses the first place in the sentiments of her slave: but the adventure of the fan was a mere accident, owing to Lord Carmarthen. Adieu. I think you may be satisfied. I say nothing of my terrestrial affairs.* Good works are unnecessary, as I can only hope to be justified by my faith in the merit of my Redeemer John Holroyd.
Hotel de Modene à Paris, September the 1st, 1777.
Dear Madam,
I must either write ten lines or twenty pages, and you will easily judge which I shall prefer. The various sets of company with whom I pass my time are so completely strangersto you, that before I mentioned any person of my acquaintance I must introduce them with a very tedious yet imperfect account of their birth, parentage, education and character. After all, what would principally interest the curiosity of friendship may be dispatched in two words—I am well and happy. Mr. Necker has not yet discovered any signs of jealousy, and I supped last night between two Arch-bishops who, I am persuaded, have not the least intention of solliciting alettre de cachetto send me to the Bastille. I only regret that it was not possible to choose another season of the Year for my Expedition. In summer Paris is very far from being a desert like London, and I have the daily pleasure of living in a very numerous and agreeable Society, yet as there is always a considerable emigration into the provinces I am sensible that many valuable acquisitions have escaped me. In the first or second week of October the Court goes to Fontainebleau, and as it is never so full and splendid as in that place, I propose passing a few days there. I must afterwards allow myself a little space to thank and embrace my Paris friends: and shall return by the first of November to a very different scene of things in London.
You will not be sorry to hear that, though I love the French from inclination and gratitude, I have by no means lost my relish for my native country. I have spent so much time in gay dissipation, that I must set myself in good earnest to work; but you may depend on my desire to steal a few days of the Christmas recess for a Bath expedition. I fancy we shall have a busy Session of Parliament, and unless Howe has very decisive success we shall be less unanimous for the design of conquering America. I will not trouble you with politics, but will only venture to assure you, that, in the present moment, the French Counsels are seriously inclined for peace. My friend Necker (for I now esteem and love him on his own account) is declared principal minister of the finances, and though he has great obstacles to contend with, his knowledge, his firmness, and the purity of his intentions ought to make us wish for his disgrace.
I am, Dear Madam,Ever yours,E. Gibbon.
Bentinck Street, Nov. 4th, 1777.
A MARTYR TO GOUT.
I arrived last night, laid up with the gout in both my feet. I suffer like one of the first Martyrs, and possibly have provoked my punishment as much. If you wish to see me, come to town before the meeting. I hope my Lady will not laugh.
Bentinck Street, November 4th, 1777.
Dear Madam,
When you hear the reason, you will excuse my telling you in two words that I arrived last night. I am laid up with a very painful fit of the gout in both my feet. I came over from Calais with some difficulty; yet I rejoice that I am in my own library, and three hundred miles neareryouthan I was a week ago. I think it cannot last long.
I am, Dear Madam,Most truly,E. G.
[Bentinck Street,] Saturday, [November, 1777.]
*Had you four horns as well as four eyes and four hands, I should still maintain that you are the most unreasonable Monster in the Creation. My pain is lively, my weakness excessive, the season cold, and only twelve days remain to the meeting. Far from thinking of trips into the Country, I shall be well satisfied if I am on my legs the 20th, in the medical sense of the word. At present I am a Corpse, carried about by four arms which do not belong to me. Yet I try to smile: I salute the hen and chickens. Adieu. Writing is really painful.*
Bentinck Street, Nov. 13th, 1777.
Dear Madam,
As my disorder was perfectly free from danger, I thought it needless to repeateverypost, that I was in a good deal of pain: but I seize the first opportunity of telling you that the enemy appears to be raising the siege, and that he makes a regular and gradual retreat: the pain is gone, the swellings diminished, my strength is returning; this morning for the first time I enjoyed the luxury of using crutches, and I aspire to the superior luxury of throwing them away. In the course of my recovery you may depend on my prudence. Adieu! dear Madam, I sincerely envy your loving couple: but be pleased to remember thattheyare only twenty.
I amMost truly yours,E. Gibbon.
Friday, November 14th, 1777.
*I do not like this disorder on your eyes: and when I consider your temperance and activity, I cannot understand why any spring of the machine should ever be deranged. With regard to myself, the Gout has behaved in a very honourable manner; after a compleat conquest, and after making me feel his power for some days, the generous Enemy has disdained to abuse his victory or torment any longer an unresisting victim. He has already ceased to torture the lower extremities of your humble servant; the swelling is so amazingly diminished that they are no longer above twice their ordinary size. Yesterday I moved about the room with the laborious majesty of crutches; to-day I have exchanged them for a stick; and by the beginning of next week, I hope, with due precaution, to take the air and to inure myself for the interesting representation of Thursday. How cursedly unlucky! I wanted to see you both; a thousand things to say andto hear, and every scheme of that kind broke to pieces. If you are not able to come to Bentinck Street, I must contrive to steal three or four vacant days during the Session, and run down to Sheffield. The town fills, and I begin to have numerous levers and couchers, more properly the latter. We are still in expectation, but in the mean while we believe (I mean Ministers) that the news of Howe's victory and the taking of Philadelphia are true.[374]Adieu.*
Saturday Night, 30th November, 1777.
Your feaver, rhumatism, confinement and the use of a strange hand make me very uneasy. If I thought I could be of any use, I would in spite of Parliament[375]immediately run down; but I do most heartily advise, beg and intreat that, as soon as you are fit for motion, you would come to town, and consult about the best method of putting an end to this tedious complaint. For myself, I have almost forgot the gout. No alteration as to the public: Much debating, little hopes and no news. Your Inn business I will skilfully manage either in person, or by my faithful Minister, and you may depend on the earliest account of it. You asked about the Highlander: he is still in his mountains. I fear Mrs. G. expects me at Christmas, but Ireallyprefer Sheffield, and will try to defer the Bath journey till Easter. Do not however reckon upon my success. Adieu.
Monday night, December, 1777.
WEARY OF THE WAR.
*I congratulate your noble firmness, as I suppose it must arise from the knowledge of some hidden resources which will enable us to open the next Campaign with new armies of 50 or 60,000 men. But I believe you will find yourself obliged to carry on this glorious War almost alone. It would be idle to dispute anymore about politics, as we shall so soon have an opportunity of a personal combat. Your journey gives me some hopes that you have not entirely lost your reason.* Your bed shall be ready. Caplin has conversed with your Tenant, but his demands were certainly excuses, as he has given over all thoughts of the enterprize: possibly you may be more successful. Adieu. I do not embrace My lady, as she seems to decline accompanying you. Her conduct is shameful and unnatural.
December 2nd, 1777.
By the enclosed you will see that America is notyetConquered. Opposition are very lively,[376]and though in the house we keep our numbers, there seems to be a universal desire of peace even on the most humble conditions. Are you still fierce?
House of Commons, Thursday, Dec. 4th, 1777.
SARATOGA.
Dreadful news indeed. You will see them partly in the papers, and we have not yet any particulars. An English army of nearly 10,000 men laid down their arms and surrendered prisoners of war, on condition of being sent to England and of never serving against America.[377]They had fought bravely, and were three dayswithout eating. Burgoyne is said to have received three wounds. General Frazer[378]with 2000 men, killed. Colonel Ackland[379]likewise killed. A general cry for peace. Adieu. We have constant late days.
Bentinck Street, December 16th, 1777.
Dear Madam,
DESPAIRS OF COERCING AMERICA.
I flatter myself that my long silence must have given you great satisfaction. You recollect that while I was under the tyranny of the Gout, I showed myself tolerably exact in sending you intelligence of my situation and improvement. From my silence therefore, you must have concluded that I am, now, as indeed I am, restored to public health, and once more engaged in the busy as well as idle dissipations of this great town. I jumped at once from a sick chair into the warmest debates, which I ever remember in my short parliamentary life. They have constantly been fed by our miserable news from America, and the Session after the holydays will be taken up by Committees on the state of the Nation, Enquiries into the conduct of Ministers and Generals, &c., which will at least serve to increase the public ferment. What will be the resolutions of our Governors I know not, but I shall scarcely give my consent to exhaust still further the finest country in the World in the prosecution of a war from whence no reasonable man entertains any hopes of success. It is better to be humbled than ruined.
Half my acquaintance, Lady Dy, Lady Payne, the Solicitor General,[380]&c., are running down to Bath for the holydays. HadI no other inducement I should certainly escape from the crowd, and employ that short interval of quiet in resuming my long neglected History. Those literary occupations however I would gladly sacrifice to the pleasure of seeing you, but I apprehend I shall be engaged to prefer the Sussex to the Bath journey by some reasons which I will fairly submit to your judgement.
1. Holroyd, as you must have learned from his sister, is in a very indifferent state of health. His eyes are affected, his spirits are low, he has been disappointed of other company and he entreats me in a very moving way not to abandon him on this occasion.
2. I wish to pass some time with him on my own account, and to consult him with regard to Buriton, which is, I fear, very indifferently treated by my tenant Winton.
3. I expect, without knowing the day, a French lady of quality, Madame de Genlis,[381]to whom I have very great obligations. Whenever she informs me of her arrival in London, I must instantly fly (on the wings of mere friendship) to receive and attend her: now it would be somewhat vexatious to travel an hundred and ten miles, and to be called away the next day. Determine for me, my dear friend, you have every tye upon me of promise, of gratitude and of inclination. If you are not perfectly satisfied with my positive engagement to pass the Easter recess with you, depend upon it I will break through every difficulty that detains me at present. I have a thousand things to hear and say, and I know that you will enjoy, what I could not perhaps say to others without incurring the censure of vanity. If the Goulds are at Bath, I beg to be remembered to them. I see your friend Mr. Melmoth[382]has published a translation ofanother piece of Tully: on a subject which you understand at least as well as either of them. It will be worth your reading, for the treatise is valuable and he is an elegant as well as faithful translator.
I am, Dear Madam,Ever yours,E. G.
Sheffield Place, December the 26th, 1777.
Dear Madam,
I arrived yesterday at Sheffield Place to enjoy the beauties of the country, which are displayed in a profusion of rain, snow and fogs. I think I never saw the Landlady in better looks, health or spirits. With regard to the Landlord, the principal object of this cold expedition, his eyes are somewhat better, and I flatter myself that the conversation of a friend will contribute to enliven him. I admire your fortitude, but I assure you that my despondency was not occasioned by the misfortunes of Bourgoyne and his gallant troops. It is founded on a very full consideration of a plan, the difficulties of which present themselves every day in a stronger light. What must be the means or the instruments to extricate us from this melancholy situation still remain to be considered with the most serious and dispassionate attention.
I am, dear Madam,Most truly yours,E. G.
The family desired to be remembered to you.
Saturday night, 1778.
The Gib ishalfastounded andhalfdisappointed at the Revolution. He thinks (at present) that he shall appear in person at S. P. either Monday or Tuesday next to require an explanation. London is a dead calm and delicious solitude. Ifsome people would send for the Eliza all might be forgiven. Adieu.
E. G.
Tuesday next will certainly produce his presence or an Epistle.
1778.
ForTuesdayreadWednesday. I think I may reach S. P. by dinner time; but do not wait. My Lady's inconstancy disarranges me much, but it is far better that I should be disarranged, than that her gentle spirit should be grieved. Yet, why cannot she live quiet, and solitary at Brighton?
Monday night, January 26th, 1778.
What can I say? No news or business. Lord G.'s great misfortune has procured him a respite.[383]We shall soon have something of a brush to-morrow on his first appearance.[384]Lord N. seems in high spirits: we hear no more of conciliatory propositions. I received to-day a huge pacquet, a Theological answer written by amereIrish parson.[385]Adieu. I embrace my Lady, and wait with impatience. I hope your eyes are not the worse for a little fatigue. I love a dutiful aunt. It is now half an hour past nine. I have been hard at work since dinner, and am just setting out for Lady Payne's Assembly, with half the fine Bs at it, after which, I shall perhaps sup with Charles, &c., at Almack's.
Feb. 23, 1778.
*You do not readily believe in præternatural miscarriages of letters; nor I neither. Listen, however, to a plain and honest narrative. This morning after breakfast, as I was ruminating onyoursilence, Thomas, my new footman, with confusion in his looks, and stammering on his tongue, produced a letter reasonably soiled, which he was to have brought me the day of his arrival, and which had lain forgotten from that time in his pocket. To shorten as much as possible the continuance, I immediately inquired, whether any method of conveyance could be devised more expeditious than the post, and was fortunately informed of your Coachman's intentions.* In your observations on the opposition, &c., I desiderate somewhat of your usual moderation. I suppose you imagine that a reluctant effort of reason is at once to efface past errors, to command present acquiescence, and to inspire future confidence.
ATTEMPTS AT CONCILIATION.
*You probably know the heads of the plan; an act of parliament, to declare that we neverhadany intention of taxing America: another act, to empower the Crown to name commissioners, authorized to suspend hostilities by sea and land, as well as all obnoxious acts; and, in short, to grant every thing, except Independence.[386]Opposition, after expressing theirdoubts whether the lance of Achilles could cure the wound which it had inflicted, could not refuse their assent to the principles of conduct which they themselves had always recommended. Yet you must acknowledge, that in a business of this magnitude there may arise several important questions, which, without a spirit of faction, will deserve to be debated: whether Parliament ought not to name the Commissioners? whether it would not be better to repeal the obnoxious acts ourselves? I do not find that the World, that is, a few people whom I happen to converse with, are much inclined to praise Lord N.'s ductility of temper. In the service of next Friday,[387]you will, however, take notice of the injunction given by the Liturgy: "And all the people shall say after theminister, Turn us again, O Lord, and so shall we be turned."
While we considered whether we shall negociate, I fear the French have been more diligent. It is positively asserted, both in private and in Parliament, and not contradicted by the Ministers, that on the 5th of this month a treaty of Commerce[388](which naturally leads to a war) was signed at Paris with the Independent States of America. What do you think of the tardyness of administration? Yet there still remains a hope that England may obtain the preference. The two greatest countries in Europe are fairly running a race for the favour of America;* and I fear ourLordhas more bottom than foot. Adieu. Am not I very good? but you must not expect a repetition of such exalted Virtue. Your Eyes? I embrace My lady, &c. I have written to all: no answers. I will see Cadell.
I send you a parcel, that, as a member, I have just received.
February 28th, 1778.
Dear Madam,
SUEING FOR PEACE.
You will think me the most impudent fellow alive: but I am really angry withyoufor not being angry withmeoaccount of my long and shameful silence. We have had (I do not mean it as any excuse) the hardest work I have yet known in Parliament. You see that we are reduced to the humiliation of sueing for peace. I much fear we shall have the additional humiliation of being rejected. In the meantime a French war is every day a probable event. I have not yet seen so very black a prospect. How have you passed the winter, in health, in spirits and in amusements? For my own part I am perfectly free from the gout, and notwithstanding the hurry of business and pleasure, I steal some moments for the Roman Empire. I can assure you with the utmost truth that I look forward to Easter with such impatience Iwillwrite oftener.
I am, Dear Madam,Most truly yours,E. Gibbon.
Almack's, Saturday night, [February, 28th, 1778].
I like your method of proceeding, and I am much relieved to find that after fighting so long with savage monsters, we have at length found a being not totally devoid of sense and feeling. Yet I fear the events which may happen before Michaelmas. With regard to your other schemes, I think themhard: but the times are so: and I must submit. Hugonin shall not be omitted.
*As to politics, we should easily fill pages, and therefore had better be silent. You are mistaken in supposing that the Bills are opposed; some particular objections have been stated, and in theonlydivision I voted with Government.[389]* Yet I still repeat that in my opinion, Lord N. does not deserve pardon for the past, applause for the present, or confidence for the future. You are, however, perfectly in the right in supposing that the most able men in the Kingdom will go to America, as a proofof which I must inform you that Lord Carlisle is certainly appointed first Commissioner.[390]
Caplin enquired about the groom. He is a drunken, worthless fellow. Adieu. I hear the bell. My Lady is a most aimiable Creature. I rejoice in her snugness.
February 29th, 1778.
Dear H.,
Last night I found a note from Gosling that he wished to see me this morning. In my reply I submitted it to him whether it might not be better to wait a few days for our common friend. He answered me that he had no objection to talking about Bucks when you came, but that my Estates being intermixed with Lord Verney's seemed to him aninsuperableobjection, So that I fear there is an end of our sheet Anchor. I wait impatiently for your arrival. What is to be done? Aubrey whispered me last night, that Sir Sampson Gideon[391]was purchasing everything in that part of Bucks. Excuse my writing meerly about my own affairs, I am really out of spirits. Monday night, if there is anything stirring, I will give you a letter of news. Adieu.
March 7th, 1778.
E. G. is alive, well, but much ashamed of himself. In two or three posts he intends to write somewhat more at large. The H.'s will come to him next Sunday.
Saturday Night, ten o'clock, 14th March, 1778.
WAR WITH FRANCE.
Enclosed I send Arthur Young's character. You will judge, but I should not be satisfied with it. Your polite footmanshall be sought for. This moment Beauclerck, Lord Ossory, Sheridan, Garrick, Burke, Charles Fox and Lord Cambden (no bad set you will perhaps say) have left me. It is reported that M. de Noailles has signified to Lord Weymouth the treaty of France with the united and independent States of America, with the cold modification that it is not of a hostile character.[392]We have had hard but dull work. Monday will be a great day,—the enquiry and the orders given by Lord George for the Canada expedition.[393]
Dr. Robertson is in town. I shall dine with him to-morrow. Adieu. I have given directions for La Fontaine's fables.
Almack's, Saturday night, [March 21st, 1778].
*As business thickens, and you may expect me to write sometimes, I shall lay down one rule; totally to avoid political argument, conjecture, lamentation, declamation, &c., which would fill pages, not to say volumes; and to confine myself to short, authentic pieces of intelligence, for which I may be able to afford moments and lines. Hear then—The French ambassador[394]went off yesterday morning, not without some slight expressions of ill humour from John Bull. Lord Stormont[395]is probably arrivedto-day. Noimmediatedeclaration expected on our side. A Report (but vague) of an action in the bay, between La Motte Piquet and Digby; the former has five ships and three frigates, with three large store ships under convoy; the latter has eleven ships of the line. If the Frenchman should sail to the mouth of the Delawar, he may possibly be followed and shut up. When Franklin was received at Versailles,[396]Deane went in the same character to Vienna, and Arthur Lee to Madrid. Notwithstanding the reports of an action in Silesia, they subside;[397]and I have seen a letter from Eliot at Berlin of the tenth instant, without any mention of actual hostilities, and even speaking of the impending War as not absolutely inevitable. Last Tuesday the first payment of the loan £600,000 was certainly made; and as it would otherwise be forfeited, it is a security for the remainder. I have not yet got the intelligence you want, about former prices of stock in Critical times. These are surely such.Dixi. Vale.Send me some good news from Bucks; In spite of the War, I must sell. We want you in town. Frazer is impatient: but if you come without Mylady, every door will be shut.
Bentinck Street, March 30th, 1778.