Instead of censuring my indolence (though you might as usual do it
with very just reason), listen to a tale of wonders.
[Sidenote: MISS HESTER GIBBON.]
On Sunday last, when my servant came to the place where I had dined,
with the carriage, he told me that Mrs. Gibbon was come to town,
had sent to Bentinck Street and wished to see me that evening. It
appeared somewhat singular that you should have run up to town
without giving me any notice, and somewhat unkind that you should
not have made Bentinck Street your Inn.--But, *guess my surprize
when a further enquiry discovered to me that it was not Mrs. Gibbon
of Bath, but Mrs. Gibbon of Northamptonshire. I immediately went to
Surrey Street where she lodged, but though it was no more than half
an hour after nine, the Saint had finished her evening devotions and
was already retired to rest. Yesterday morning (by appointment) I
breakfasted with her at eight o'clock, dined with her to-day at two
in Newman Street, and am just returned from setting down. She is in
truth a very great curiosity, her dress and figure exceed everything
we had at the Masquerade. Her language and ideas belong to the last
century. However, in point of religion she was rational, that is to
say silent. I do not believe that she asked a single question or
said the least thing concerning it. To me she behaved with great
cordiality, and in her way expressed a great regard.* In a light
of interest, however, her regard is of little consequence to me;
if I may judge from her appearance her life is a better one than
mine. Please to communicate a proper part of this intelligence to
our Cornish friends. She expressed the utmost disappointment at not
finding Mrs. Eliot and her children in town. I am sorry to hear that
we have less chance than ever of seeing them since Hams, Cheeses and
my little friend John[237] are gone down to Bath.
My knowledge of Mr. Eliot's disinclination to writing has prevented
me from giving him the trouble of an answer. My despair of equalling
the elegant raillery of the Goddess has kept me silent on that
quarter likewise. Lazyness you will say never wants an excuse.
As the Summer advances (and sorry I am to say that it advances much
faster than my Bucks business), I now fear that Mrs. P. and myself
must defer our Bath journey to the latter season of the Year. There
would however be a way which would bring us together much sooner. You
have been long and impatiently expected at Sheffield Place, where
I propose to pass at least the month of July. From Charles Street
to Bentinck Street it is a pleasant drive; from Bentinck Street to
Sheffield Place little more than a morning walk. Mrs. P. tells me
that she has just wrote to you. She ought to go to a Masquerade once
a year. Did you think her such a girl?
I am, Dear Madam,
Most truly yours,
E. G.
[237] The second son of Mr. Eliot, of Port Eliot.
200.
_To J. B. Holroyd, Esq._
Boodle's, May 24th, 1774.
*I wrote three folio pages to you this morning, and yet you complain.
Have reason, and have mercy; consider all the excellent reasons for
silence which I gave you in one of my last, and expect my arrival in
Sussex, when I shall talk more in a quarter of an hour than I could
write in a day. A propos of that arrival; never pretend to allure me,
by painting in odious colours the dust of London. I love the dust,
and whenever I move into the Wold,[238] it is to visit you and My
lady, and not your Trees. About this day month I mean to give you a
_visitation_. I leave it to Guise, Clarke, and the other light Horse,
to prance down for a day or two. They all talk of mounting, but will
not fix the day. Sir John [Russel], whom I salute, has brought you, I
suppose, all the news of Versailles.[239] Let me only add, that the
Mesdames, by attending their father, have both got the small-pox.
Your Attorney has your Case. I congratulate you. I can make nothing
of Lovegrove, or his Lawyer. You will swear at the shortness of this
letter.--Swear.*
[238] The Weald of Sussex [S.].
[239] Louis XV. died May 10, 1774, of small-pox. "Two of the
King's daughters," writes Walpole (May 15, 1774), "though they
never had the small-pox, attended him." Both the princesses
caught the disease, but recovered. Louis XVI. and his two
brothers were vaccinated, and the successful results did much to
establish the practice on the Continent.
201.
_To J. B. Holroyd, Esq._
Bentinck Street, June 4th, 1774.
I hope you, Templar, Doves, &c., got down safe. Compliments to Maria
and My Lady.--I passed this morning, three horrid hours at Searle's
Coffee House.[240] I was a Hero, La Brute not exceedingly clever, and
M. more candid than I had yet seen him. We almost parted once in the
mutual defiance. At last they consented that on Monday and Tuesday,
the two Attornies should examine the Deeds at Gosling's, compare
them with the Abstract and lay the whole before Duane: and likewise
that they should search Offices about my title to the great Tythes
_without prejudice_ to the General Warranty which was agreed to by
letter. If we coalesce at all, _Arbitration_; if not, _Chancery_. The
latter I fear, and I must own that I fear it in every respect. Adieu.