Ferrol, 11 December, 1779.
My dearest Friend,--We have had an escape again,[211] but are arrived
safely in Spain. As the frigate will probably not get from this place
these two months, I must go by land to Paris, which I suppose is a
journey of between three and four hundred leagues. That part of it which
is in Spain is very mountainous. No post, bad roads, bad taverns, and
very dear. We must ride mules, horses not being to be had. I must get
some kind of carriage for the children, if possible. They are very well.
Charles has sustained the voyage and behaves as well as ever his brother
did. He is much pleased with what he sees. Sammy Cooper, too, is very
well. These young gentlemen give me a vast deal of trouble in this
unexpected journey. I have bought a dictionary and grammar, and they are
learning the Spanish language as fast as possible. What could we do, if
you and all the family were with me?
Ferrol is a magnificent port and harbor. It is fortified by nature by
rows of lofty rocky mountains on each side the narrow entrance of it,
and the public works, the fortifications, barracks, arsenals, etc.,
which are of stone very like Braintree stone, exceed anything I have
seen. I dined the day before yesterday with Don Joseph Saint Vincent,
the Lieutenant-general of the Marine, who is the commandant of this
port, with four-and-twenty French and Spanish officers. The difference
between gravity and gayety was an amusing speculation. Yesterday I
dined on board the _Triomphant_, an eighty-gun French ship, commanded by
the Chef d'Escadre, M. Sade, and have engagements for every day for a
much longer time than I shall stay. The French consul and vice-consul
have been particularly polite and obliging to me. In short, I never was
better pleased with a reception at any place.
There is no news. Nothing has been done in Europe. England is as
insolent in language as ever; but this is only ridiculous, as it is
apparently impotent.