Cleveland Row, April 28th, 1797
MY DEAREST BROTHER,
I have this day seen Dutheil, and to-morrow I am to see the other;
but there has been a blunder about it, or I should long since have
seen him. I hardly know how to credit all I hear on that subject,
and yet I must say I hear it from all quarters, agreeing in the
essentials, though varying a little as to sub-divisions, according
to the dispositions of the informants.
I hardly know how to tell myself, under these circumstances, what I
wish about Hammond's mission, because the panic here is so
disgraceful, that the country will not allow us to do them justice.
If I thought others _would_ do them that justice, my resolution
would soon be taken; but I have not nerves to plunge my country
into the horrors of a Jacobin Government to save myself the
unpleasant task of being compelled to do worse for them than I am
sure I could if they would but be quiet and suffer themselves to be
saved. It is a curious speculation in history to see how often the
good people of England have played this game over and over again,
and how incorrigible they are in it. To desire war without
reflection, to be unreasonably elated with success, to be still
more unreasonably depressed by difficulties, and to call out for
peace with an impatience which makes suitable terms unattainable,
are the established maxims and the regular progress of the popular
mind in this country. Yet, such as it is, it is worth all the other
countries of the world put together, so we must not too much
complain of it.
I am grieved to hear that your dear son has had another relapse,
and should be extremely obliged to you if, whenever you can send me
a better account, as I trust you will be able to do, you would let
me have a line.
Ever most affectionately yours,
G.