_reclined in an elegant attitude on a sofa fast asleep_.
_Enter_ COL. ELLIOTT.
_Col. E_. My daughter is not here, I see. There lies Sir Edward. Shall
I tell him the secret? No, he'll certainly blab it. But he's asleep,
and won't hear me;--so I'll e'en venture. (_Goes up to_ SIR EDWARD,
_whispers him, and exit_.)
END OF THE FIRST ACT.
FINIS.
* * * * *
Her own mature opinion of the desirableness of such an early habit of
composition is given in the following words of a niece:--
'As I grew older, my aunt would talk to me more seriously of my reading
and my amusements. I had taken early to writing verses and stories, and
I am sorry to think how I troubled her with reading them. She was very
kind about it, and always had some praise to bestow, but at last she
warned me against spending too much time upon them. She said--how well I
recollect it!--that she knew writing stories was a great amusement, and
_she_ thought a harmless one, though many people, she was aware, thought
otherwise; but that at my age it would be bad for me to be much taken up
with my own compositions. Later still--it was after she had gone to
Winchester--she sent me a message to this effect, that if I would take
her advice I should cease writing till I was sixteen; that she had
herself often wished she had read more, and written less in the
corresponding years of her own life.' As this niece was only twelve
years old at the time of her aunt's death, these words seem to imply that
the juvenile tales to which I have referred had, some of them at least,
been written in her childhood.
But between these childish effusions, and the composition of her living
works, there intervened another stage of her progress, during which she
produced some stories, not without merit, but which she never considered
worthy of publication. During this preparatory period her mind seems to
have been working in a very different direction from that into which it
ultimately settled. Instead of presenting faithful copies of nature,
these tales were generally burlesques, ridiculing the improbable events
and exaggerated sentiments which she had met with in sundry silly
romances. Something of this fancy is to be found in 'Northanger Abbey,'
but she soon left it far behind in her subsequent course. It would seem
as if she were first taking note of all the faults to be avoided, and
curiously considering how she ought _not_ to write before she attempted
to put forth her strength in the right direction. The family have,
rightly, I think, declined to let these early works be published. Mr.
Shortreed observed very pithily of Walter Scott's early rambles on the
borders, 'He was makin' himsell a' the time; but he didna ken, may be,
what he was about till years had passed. At first he thought of little,
I dare say, but the queerness and the fun.' And so, in a humbler way,
Jane Austen was 'makin' hersell,' little thinking of future fame, but
caring only for 'the queerness and the fun;' and it would be as unfair to
expose this preliminary process to the world, as it would be to display
all that goes on behind the curtain of the theatre before it is drawn up.
It was, however, at Steventon that the real foundations of her fame were
laid. There some of her most successful writing was composed at such an
early age as to make it surprising that so young a woman could have
acquired the insight into character, and the nice observation of manners
which they display. 'Pride and Prejudice,' which some consider the most
brilliant of her novels, was the first finished, if not the first begun.
She began it in October 1796, before she was twenty-one years old, and
completed it in about ten months, in August 1797. The title then
intended for it was 'First Impressions.' 'Sense and Sensibility' was
begun, in its present form, immediately after the completion of the
former, in November 1797 but something similar in story and character had
been written earlier under the title of 'Elinor and Marianne;' and if, as
is probable, a good deal of this earlier production was retained, it must
form the earliest specimen of her writing that has been given to the
world. 'Northanger Abbey,' though not prepared for the press till 1803,
was certainly first composed in 1798.
Amongst the most valuable neighbours of the Austens were Mr. and Mrs.
Lefroy and their family. He was rector of the adjoining parish of Ashe;
she was sister to Sir Egerton Brydges, to whom we are indebted for the
earliest notice of Jane Austen that exists. In his autobiography,
speaking of his visits at Ashe, he writes thus: 'The nearest neighbours
of the Lefroys were the Austens of Steventon. I remember Jane Austen,
the novelist, as a little child. She was very intimate with Mrs. Lefroy,
and much encouraged by her. Her mother was a Miss Leigh, whose paternal
grandmother was sister to the first Duke of Chandos. Mr. Austen was of a
Kentish family, of which several branches have been settled in the Weald
of Kent, and some are still remaining there. When I knew Jane Austen, I
never suspected that she was an authoress; but my eyes told me that she
was fair and handsome, slight and elegant, but with cheeks a little too
full.' One may wish that Sir Egerton had dwelt rather longer on the
subject of these memoirs, instead of being drawn away by his extreme love
for genealogies to her great-grandmother and ancestors. That
great-grandmother however lives in the family records as Mary Brydges, a
daughter of Lord Chandos, married in Westminster Abbey to Theophilus
Leigh of Addlestrop in 1698. When a girl she had received a curious
letter of advice and reproof, written by her mother from Constantinople.
Mary, or 'Poll,' was remaining in England with her grandmother, Lady
Bernard, who seems to have been wealthy and inclined to be too indulgent
to her granddaughter. This letter is given. Any such authentic
document, two hundred years old, dealing with domestic details, must
possess some interest. This is remarkable, not only as a specimen of the
homely language in which ladies of rank then expressed themselves, but
from the sound sense which it contains. Forms of expression vary, but
good sense and right principles are the same in the nineteenth that they
were in the seventeenth century.
'MY DEARES POLL,
'Yr letters by Cousin Robbert Serle arrived here not before the 27th
of Aprill, yett were they hartily wellcome to us, bringing ye joyful
news which a great while we had longed for of my most dear Mother &
all other relations & friends good health which I beseech God continue
to you all, & as I observe in yrs to yr Sister Betty ye extraordinary
kindness of (as I may truly say) the best Mothr & Gnd Mothr in the
world in pinching herself to make you fine, so I cannot but admire her
great good Housewifry in affording you so very plentifull an
allowance, & yett to increase her Stock at the rate I find she hath
done; & think I can never sufficiently mind you how very much it is yr
duty on all occasions to pay her yr gratitude in all humble submission
& obedience to all her commands soe long as you live. I must tell you
'tis to her bounty & care in ye greatest measure you are like to owe
yr well living in this world, & as you cannot but be very sensible you
are an extra-ordinary charge to her so it behoves you to take
particular heed tht in ye whole course of yr life, you render her a
proportionable comfort, especially since 'tis ye best way you can ever
hope to make her such amends as God requires of yr hands. but Poll!
it grieves me a little yt I am forced to take notice of & reprove you
for some vaine expressions in yr lettrs to yr Sister--you say
concerning yr allowance "you aime to bring yr bread & cheese even" in
this I do not discommend you, for a foule shame indeed it would be
should you out run the Constable having soe liberall a provision made
you for yr maintenance--but ye reason you give for yr resolution I
cannot at all approve for you say "to spend more you can't" thats
because you have it not to spend, otherwise it seems you would. So yt
'tis yr Grandmothrs discretion & not yours tht keeps you from
extravagancy, which plainly appears in ye close of yr sentence, saying
yt you think it simple covetousness to save out of yrs but 'tis my
opinion if you lay all on yr back 'tis ten tymes a greater sin & shame
thn to save some what out of soe large an allowance in yr purse to
help you at a dead lift. Child, we all know our beginning, but who
knows his end? Ye best use tht can be made of fair weathr is to
provide against foule & 'tis great discretion & of noe small
commendations for a young woman betymes to shew herself housewifly &
frugal. Yr Mother neither Maide nor wife ever yett bestowed forty
pounds a yeare on herself & yett if you never fall undr a worse
reputation in ye world thn she (I thank God for it) hath hitherto
done, you need not repine at it, & you cannot be ignorant of ye
difference tht was between my fortune & what you are to expect. You
ought likewise to consider tht you have seven brothers & sisters & you
are all one man's children & therefore it is very unreasonable that
one should expect to be preferred in finery soe much above all ye rest
for 'tis impossible you should soe much mistake yr ffather's condition
as to fancy he is able to allow every one of you forty pounds a yeare
a piece, for such an allowance with the charge of their diett over and
above will amount to at least five hundred pounds a yeare, a sum yr
poor ffather can ill spare, besides doe but bethink yrself what a
ridiculous sight it will be when yr grandmothr & you come to us to
have noe less thn seven waiting gentlewomen in one house, for what
reason can you give why every one of yr Sistrs should not have every
one of ym a Maide as well as you, & though you may spare to pay yr
maide's wages out of yr allowance yett you take no care of ye
unnecessary charge you put yr ffathr to in yr increase of his family,
whereas if it were not a piece of pride to have ye name of keeping yr
maide she yt waits on yr good Grandmother might easily doe as formerly
you know she hath done, all ye business you have for a maide unless as
you grow oldr you grow a veryer Foole which God forbid!
'Poll, you live in a place where you see great plenty & splendour but
let not ye allurements of earthly pleasures tempt you to forget or
neglect ye duty of a good Christian in dressing yr bettr part which is
yr soule, as will best please God. I am not against yr going decent &
neate as becomes yr ffathers daughter but to clothe yrself rich & be
running into every gaudy fashion can never become yr circumstances &
instead of doing you creditt & getting you a good prefernt it is ye
readiest way you can take to fright all sober men from ever thinking
of matching thmselves with women that live above thyr fortune, & if
this be a wise way of spending money judge you! & besides, doe but
reflect what an od sight it will be to a stranger that comes to our
house to see yr Grandmothr yr Mothr & all yr Sisters in a plane dress
& you only trickd up like a bartlemew-babby--you know what sort of
people those are tht can't faire well but they must cry rost meate now
what effect could you imagine yr writing in such a high straine to yr
Sisters could have but either to provoke thm to envy you or murmur
against us. I must tell you neithr of yr Sisters have ever had twenty
pounds a yeare allowance from us yett, & yett theyr dress hath not
disparaged neithr thm nor us & without incurring ye censure of simple
covetousness they will have some what to shew out of their saving that
will doe thm creditt & I expect yt you tht are theyr elder Sister shd
rather sett thm examples of ye like nature thn tempt thm from treading
in ye steps of their good Grandmothr & poor Mothr. This is not half
what might be saide on this occasion but believing thee to be a very
good natured dutyfull child I shd have thought it a great deal too
much but yt having in my coming hither past through many most
desperate dangers I cannot forbear thinking & preparing myself for all
events, & therefore not knowing how it may please God to dispose of us
I conclude it my duty to God & thee my dr child to lay this matter as
home to thee as I could, assuring you my daily prayers are not nor
shall not be wanting that God may give you grace always to remember to
make a right use of this truly affectionate counsell of yr poor Mothr.
& though I speak very plaine down-right english to you yett I would
not have you doubt but that I love you as hartily as any child I have
& if you serve God and take good courses I promise you my kindness to
you shall be according to yr own hart's desire, for you may be certain
I can aime at nothing in what I have now writ but yr real good which
to promote shall be ye study & care day & night
'Of my dear Poll
'thy truly affectionate Mothr.
'ELIZA CHANDOS.
'Pera of Galata, May ye 6th 1686.
'P.S.--Thy ffathr & I send thee our blessing, & all thy brothrs &
sistrs theyr service. Our harty & affectionate service to my brothr &
sistr Childe & all my dear cozens. When you see my Lady Worster &
cozen Howlands pray present thm my most humble service.'
This letter shows that the wealth acquired by trade was already
manifesting itself in contrast with the straitened circumstances of some
of the nobility. Mary Brydges's 'poor ffather,' in whose household
economy was necessary, was the King of England's ambassador at
Constantinople; the grandmother, who lived in 'great plenty and
splendour,' was the widow of a Turkey merchant. But then, as now, it
would seem, rank had the power of attracting and absorbing wealth.
At Ashe also Jane became acquainted with a member of the Lefroy family,
who was still living when I began these memoirs, a few months ago; the
Right Hon. Thomas Lefroy, late Chief Justice of Ireland. One must look
back more than seventy years to reach the time when these two bright
young persons were, for a short time, intimately acquainted with each
other, and then separated on their several courses, never to meet again;
both destined to attain some distinction in their different ways, one to
survive the other for more than half a century, yet in his extreme old
age to remember and speak, as he sometimes did, of his former companion,
as one to be much admired, and not easily forgotten by those who had ever
known her.
Mrs. Lefroy herself was a remarkable person. Her rare endowments of
goodness, talents, graceful person, and engaging manners, were sufficient
to secure her a prominent place in any society into which she was thrown;
while her enthusiastic eagerness of disposition rendered her especially
attractive to a clever and lively girl. She was killed by a fall from
her horse on Jane's birthday, Dec. 16, 1804. The following lines to her
memory were written by Jane four years afterwards, when she was thirty-
three years old. They are given, not for their merits as poetry, but to
show how deep and lasting was the impression made by the elder friend on
the mind of the younger:--
TO THE MEMORY OF MRS. LEFROY.
1.
The day returns again, my natal day;
What mix'd emotions in my mind arise!
Beloved Friend; four years have passed away
Since thou wert snatched for ever from our eyes.
2.
The day commemorative of my birth,
Bestowing life, and light, and hope to me,
Brings back the hour which was thy last on earth.
O! bitter pang of torturing memory!
3.
Angelic woman! past my power to praise
In language meet thy talents, temper, mind,
Thy solid worth, thy captivating grace,
Thou friend and ornament of human kind.
4.
But come, fond Fancy, thou indulgent power;
Hope is desponding, chill, severe, to thee:
Bless thou this little portion of an hour;
Let me behold her as she used to be.
5.
I see her here with all her smiles benign,
Her looks of eager love, her accents sweet,
That voice and countenance almost divine,
Expression, harmony, alike complete.
6.
Listen! It is not sound alone, 'tis sense,
'Tis genius, taste, and tenderness of soul:
'Tis genuine warmth of heart without pretence,
And purity of mind that crowns the whole.
7.
She speaks! 'Tis eloquence, that grace of tongue,
So rare, so lovely, never misapplied
By her, to palliate vice, or deck a wrong:
She speaks and argues but on virtue's side.
8.
Hers is the energy of soul sincere;
Her Christian spirit, ignorant to feign,
Seeks but to comfort, heal, enlighten, cheer,
Confer a pleasure or prevent a pain.
9.
Can aught enhance such goodness? yes, to me
Her partial favour from my earliest years
Consummates all: ah! give me but to see
Her smile of love! The vision disappears.
10.
'Tis past and gone. We meet no more below,
Short is the cheat of Fancy o'er the tomb.
Oh! might I hope to equal bliss to go,
To meet thee, angel, in thy future home.
11.
Fain would I feel an union with thy fate:
Fain would I seek to draw an omen fair
From this connection in our earthly date.
Indulge the harmless weakness. Reason, spare.
The loss of their first home is generally a great grief to young persons
of strong feeling and lively imagination; and Jane was exceedingly
unhappy when she was told that her father, now seventy years of age, had
determined to resign his duties to his eldest son, who was to be his
successor in the Rectory of Steventon, and to remove with his wife and
daughters to Bath. Jane had been absent from home when this resolution
was taken; and, as her father was always rapid both in forming his
resolutions and in acting on them, she had little time to reconcile
herself to the change.
* * * * *
A wish has sometimes been expressed that some of Jane Austen's letters
should be published. Some entire letters, and many extracts, will be
given in this memoir; but the reader must be warned not to expect too
much from them. With regard to accuracy of language indeed every word of
them might be printed without correction. The style is always clear, and
generally animated, while a vein of humour continually gleams through the
whole; but the materials may be thought inferior to the execution, for
they treat only of the details of domestic life. There is in them no
notice of politics or public events; scarcely any discussions on
literature, or other subjects of general interest. They may be said to
resemble the nest which some little bird builds of the materials nearest
at hand, of the twigs and mosses supplied by the tree in which it is
placed; curiously constructed out of the simplest matters.
Her letters have very seldom the date of the year, or the signature of
her christian name at full length; but it has been easy to ascertain
their dates, either from the post-mark, or from their contents.
* * * * *
The two following letters are the earliest that I have seen. They were
both written in November 1800; before the family removed from Steventon.
Some of the same circumstances are referred to in both.
The first is to her sister Cassandra, who was then staying with their
brother Edward at Godmersham Park, Kent:--
'Steventon, Saturday evening, Nov. 8th.
'MY DEAR CASSANDRA,
'I thank you for so speedy a return to my two last, and particularly
thank you for your anecdote of Charlotte Graham and her cousin,
Harriet Bailey, which has very much amused both my mother and myself.
If you can learn anything farther of that interesting affair, I hope
you will mention it. I have two messages; let me get rid of them, and
then my paper will be my own. Mary fully intended writing to you by
Mr. Chute's frank, and only happened entirely to forget it, but will
write soon; and my father wishes Edward to send him a memorandum of
the price of the hops. The tables are come, and give general
contentment. I had not expected that they would so perfectly suit the
fancy of us all three, or that we should so well agree in the
disposition of them; but nothing except their own surface can have
been smoother. The two ends put together form one constant table for
everything, and the centre piece stands exceedingly well under the
glass, and holds a great deal most commodiously, without looking
awkwardly. They are both covered with green baize, and send their
best love. The Pembroke has got its destination by the sideboard, and
my mother has great delight in keeping her money and papers locked up.
The little table which used to stand there has most conveniently taken
itself off into the best bedroom; and we are now in want only of the
chiffonniere, which is neither finished nor come. So much for that
subject; I now come to another, of a very different nature, as other
subjects are very apt to be. Earle Harwood has been again giving
uneasiness to his family and talk to the neighbourhood; in the present
instance, however, he is only unfortunate, and not in fault.
'About ten days ago, in cocking a pistol in the guard-room at Marcau,
he accidentally shot himself through the thigh. Two young Scotch
surgeons in the island were polite enough to propose taking off the
thigh at once, but to that he would not consent; and accordingly in
his wounded state was put on board a cutter and conveyed to Haslar
Hospital, at Gosport, where the bullet was extracted, and where he now
is, I hope, in a fair way of doing well. The surgeon of the hospital
wrote to the family on the occasion, and John Harwood went down to him
immediately, attended by James, {62} whose object in going was to be
the means of bringing back the earliest intelligence to Mr. and Mrs.
Harwood, whose anxious sufferings, particularly those of the latter,
have of course been dreadful. They went down on Tuesday, and James
came back the next day, bringing such favourable accounts as greatly
to lessen the distress of the family at Deane, though it will probably
be a long while before Mrs. Harwood can be quite at ease. _One_ most
material comfort, however, they have; the assurance of its being
really an accidental wound, which is not only positively declared by
Earle himself, but is likewise testified by the particular direction
of the bullet. Such a wound could not have been received in a duel.
At present he is going on very well, but the surgeon will not declare
him to be in no danger. {63} Mr. Heathcote met with a genteel little
accident the other day in hunting. He got off to lead his horse over
a hedge, or a house, or something, and his horse in his haste trod
upon his leg, or rather ancle, I believe, and it is not certain
whether the small bone is not broke. Martha has accepted Mary's
invitation for Lord Portsmouth's ball. He has not yet sent out his
own invitations, but _that_ does not signify; Martha comes, and a ball
there is to be. I think it will be too early in her mother's absence
for me to return with her.
'_Sunday Evening_.--We have had a dreadful storm of wind in the fore
part of this day, which has done a great deal of mischief among our
trees. I was sitting alone in the dining-room when an odd kind of
crash startled me--in a moment afterwards it was repeated. I then
went to the window, which I reached just in time to see the last of
our two highly valued elms descend into the Sweep!!!! The other,
which had fallen, I suppose, in the first crash, and which was the
nearest to the pond, taking a more easterly direction, sunk among our
screen of chestnuts and firs, knocking down one spruce-fir, beating
off the head of another, and stripping the two corner chestnuts of
several branches in its fall. This is not all. One large elm out of
the two on the left-hand side as you enter what I call the elm walk,
was likewise blown down; the maple bearing the weathercock was broke
in two, and what I regret more than all the rest is, that all the
three elms which grew in Hall's meadow, and gave such ornament to it,
are gone; two were blown down, and the other so much injured that it
cannot stand. I am happy to add, however, that no greater evil than
the loss of trees has been the consequence of the storm in this place,
or in our immediate neighbourhood. We grieve, therefore, in some
comfort.
'I am yours ever,
'J. A.'
The next letter, written four days later than the former, was addressed
to Miss Lloyd, an intimate friend, whose sister (my mother) was married
to Jane's eldest brother:--
'Steventon, Wednesday evening, Nov. 12th.
'MY DEAR MARTHA,
'I did not receive your note yesterday till after Charlotte had left
Deane, or I would have sent my answer by her, instead of being the
means, as I now must be, of lessening the elegance of your new dress
for the Hurstbourne ball by the value of 3_d_. You are very good in
wishing to see me at Ibthorp so soon, and I am equally good in wishing
to come to you. I believe our merit in that respect is much upon a
par, our self-denial mutually strong. Having paid this tribute of
praise to the virtue of both, I shall here have done with panegyric,
and proceed to plain matter of fact. In about a fortnight's time I
hope to be with you. I have two reasons for not being able to come
before. I wish so to arrange my visit as to spend some days with you
after your mother's return. In the 1st place, that I may have the
pleasure of seeing her, and in the 2nd, that I may have a better
chance of bringing you back with me. Your promise in my favour was
not quite absolute, but if your will is not perverse, you and I will
do all in our power to overcome your scruples of conscience. I hope
we shall meet next week to talk all this over, till we have tired
ourselves with the very idea of my visit before my visit begins. Our
invitations for the 19th are arrived, and very curiously are they
worded. {65} Mary mentioned to you yesterday poor Earle's unfortunate
accident, I dare say. He does not seem to be going on very well. The
two or three last posts have brought less and less favourable accounts
of him. John Harwood has gone to Gosport again to-day. We have two
families of friends now who are in a most anxious state; for though by
a note from Catherine this morning there seems now to be a revival of
hope at Manydown, its continuance may be too reasonably doubted. Mr.
Heathcote, {66a} however, who has broken the small bone of his leg, is
so good as to be going on very well. It would be really too much to
have three people to care for.
'You distress me cruelly by your request about books. I cannot think
of any to bring with me, nor have I any idea of our wanting them. I
come to you to be talked to, not to read or hear reading; I can do
that at home; and indeed I am now laying in a stock of intelligence to
pour out on you as my share of the conversation. I am reading Henry's
History of England, which I will repeat to you in any manner you may
prefer, either in a loose, desultory, unconnected stream, or dividing
my recital, as the historian divides it himself, into seven parts:--The
Civil and Military: Religion: Constitution: Learning and Learned Men:
Arts and Sciences: Commerce, Coins, and Shipping: and Manners. So
that for every evening in the week there will be a different subject.
The Friday's lot--Commerce, Coins, and Shipping--you will find the
least entertaining; but the next evening's portion will make amends.
With such a provision on my part, if you will do yours by repeating
the French Grammar, and Mrs. Stent {66b} will now and then ejaculate
some wonder about the cocks and hens, what can we want? Farewell for
a short time. We all unite in best love, and I am your very
affectionate
'J. A.'
The two next letters must have been written early in 1801, after the
removal from Steventon had been decided on, but before it had taken
place. They refer to the two brothers who were at sea, and give some
idea of a kind of anxieties and uncertainties to which sisters are seldom
subject in these days of peace, steamers, and electric telegraphs. At
that time ships were often windbound or becalmed, or driven wide of their
destination; and sometimes they had orders to alter their course for some
secret service; not to mention the chance of conflict with a vessel of
superior power--no improbable occurrence before the battle of Trafalgar.
Information about relatives on board men-of-war was scarce and scanty,
and often picked up by hearsay or chance means; and every scrap of
intelligence was proportionably valuable:--
'MY DEAR CASSANDRA,
'I should not have thought it necessary to write to you so soon, but
for the arrival of a letter from Charles to myself. It was written
last Saturday from off the Start, and conveyed to Popham Lane by
Captain Boyle, on his way to Midgham. He came from Lisbon in the
"Endymion." I will copy Charles's account of his conjectures about
Frank: "He has not seen my brother lately, nor does he expect to find
him arrived, as he met Captain Inglis at Rhodes, going up to take
command of the 'Petrel,' as he was coming down; but supposes he will
arrive in less than a fortnight from this time, in some ship which is
expected to reach England about that time with dispatches from Sir
Ralph Abercrombie." The event must show what sort of a conjuror
Captain Boyle is. The "Endymion" has not been plagued with any more
prizes. Charles spent three pleasant days in Lisbon.
'They were very well satisfied with their royal passenger, {68} whom
they found jolly and affable, who talks of Lady Augusta as his wife,
and seems much attached to her.
'When this letter was written, the "Endymion" was becalmed, but
Charles hoped to reach Portsmouth by Monday or Tuesday. He received
my letter, communicating our plans, before he left England; was much
surprised, of course, but is quite reconciled to them, and means to
come to Steventon once more while Steventon is ours.'
From a letter written later in the same year:--
'Charles has received 30_l_. for his share of the privateer, and
expects 10_l_. more; but of what avail is it to take prizes if he lays
out the produce in presents to his sisters? He has been buying gold
chains and topaze crosses for us. He must be well scolded. The
"Endymion" has already received orders for taking troops to Egypt,
which I should not like at all if I did not trust to Charles being
removed from her somehow or other before she sails. He knows nothing
of his own destination, he says, but desires me to write directly, as
the "Endymion" will probably sail in three or four days. He will
receive my yesterday's letter, and I shall write again by this post to
thank and reproach him. We shall be unbearably fine.'