Your kind letter and just reproaches, instead of making me do
immediately what I had resolved to do every post-night for a
fortnight before, put off my letters two or three days longer. The
Snail of Love-lane, I saw this morning, and he tells me that he had
sent you a satisfactory explanation of his conduct; if it appears
otherwise to you, and that his delays are still inconvenient to you,
I beg that you would draw upon me, and hope you are persuaded that,
as I have two hundred pounds in Fleet Street, you are welcome to one
of them.
With Holroyd's assistance, who is determined to extricate me out of
all my troubles, the sale of Lenborough by auction at Buckingham
is fixed for the 24th of this month. He goes down with me, and the
Estate has been carefully divided into four lots, rising successively
in value above each other, so that, if any parts should remain upon
my hands a while longer, they will be the best. These precautions
are requisite in the present scarcity of money, which gives me
little hopes of selling the whole together, and even the sanguine
Holroyd is apprehensive that I shall be obliged to buy it in again
and provide for the mortgage by some other measures, at least of the
procrastinating kind.
[Sidenote: A HAPPY MAN.]
Were it not for these worldly cares, I should be a very happy man. I
never formed any great schemes of avarice, ambition or vanity: and
all the notions I ever formed of a London life in my own house, and
surrounded by my books, with a due mixture of study and society, are
fully realised. I have seen the Eliotts several times, and think he
and I take to one another very well this year. They both express
great pleasure at the thoughts of seeing us in Cornwall. I shall be
glad to know whether the time I mentioned will suit. I am obliged to
you for your invitation to Bath, and am lost in admiration at the
size of your house, which enables you to spare a bed-chamber and
drawing-room; tho' after all, I can offer you the same apartment in
my little Palace, which is absolutely the best house in London. The
Waste-coats are _sincerely_ pretty, without gratitude or compliment.
The Madeira I have got from Oliver; it is incomparable, but saddled
with nine or ten pounds due for cellarage ever since Mr. Scott's
arrival in England. Where was the Rum, for Oliver knows nothing about
it? Apropos the Beriton pictures; should you think it worth while to
frame and put them up at Bath? They will not suit my rooms and will
be soon spoilt in a Lumber-room. If you do not chuse them, I believe
I shall let them take their choice at Christie's, though I find by a
very good painter's opinion that we much over-rated their value. My
compliments to the Goulds, &c. Poor Mrs. Porten has long and frequent
attacks, but her spirits are still good.
I am, Dear Madam,
Ever yours,
E. G.
168.
_To J. B. Holroyd, Esq._
Boodle's, May 11th, 1773.